


Scilicet… (That Is To Say…)

by Captain_Rachel



Series: The Rachel Wayne Universe [1]
Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types, Batman: The Animated Series, DCU, DCU Animated, Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/M, Female Bruce Wayne, Genderswap, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-12-05
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2017-10-26 22:32:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 55
Words: 244,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/288614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Rachel/pseuds/Captain_Rachel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scilicet = Latin for “That Is To Say”</p><p>There are an infinite number of parallel Earths. For every decision we make, somewhere there is an Earth where we have already made the opposite choice. But it is not only our decisions which are affected by this, but all the decisions made by nature... here is a world where you're poor. One where your rich. One where no fish was brave enough to crawl up on land. One where the world ended in nuclear war...</p><p>Here is a world where Thomas and Martha Wayne didn't die. Here is one where Bruce died with them... and here, here is a parallel Earth where Thomas and Martha Wayne died, but Rachel Wayne survived.</p><p>(Set in a universe which sorta combines all the various DC tags above, the crossover with BBC Sherlock is MINOR. Seriously it's almost a "blink and you'll miss it" thing.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Non Quis, Sed Quid

**Author's Note:**

> Eternal Thanks To theflashisgone For Beta Reading This!

**_Non Quis, Sed Quid = Latin for “Not Who, But What”_ **

Superman could still remember the first time that he’d met Gotham’s infamous Dark Knight. In fact, Clark wouldn’t be surprised if that memory was, eventually, the last one left in his head.

All things considered it had taken a surprisingly long time for the “Last Son of Krypton” and the “World’s Greatest Detective” to meet face to face. Only a year separated Superman’s first public appearance and the night the Bat started to prowl the rooftops of Gotham. It had taken two years for Superman to meet Gotham’s caped crusader, when it usually only took him a month at the most to meet any other new hero.

While there had been other heroes before Superman, famous men and women who had done great and noble deeds, most people thought of Superman as the first “real” superhero. Seeming to come from nowhere, he’d taken center stage and it hadn’t taken long for others to follow him into the limelight. Soon all manner of superheroes were fighting crime in dozens of cities.

Wonder Man, the Flash, Green Lantern, Hawkman, Martian Manhunter, Green Arrow… the list seemed to grow larger every week. It didn’t matter what city the new hero called home, sooner or later, Superman met every single one of them, face to face. Before long it had practically become Clark’s job to introduce heroes to each other.

Eventually a sort of group, something like a social club, had emerged. The club had, over a few months, grown and morphed into what became the Justice League. The goal of the League was quite simple: give superheroes a way to call for backup.

When a new hero appeared one of the “big names” at the League would investigate. They would run a sort of background check, making sure they were dealing with a real hero, not a common vigilante or crazy person. After making sure of this they would actually contact the hero, giving them the opportunity to join the League.

Even Superman needed backup from time to time, so he was proud to be a member of a group that heroes could call if everything went to hell in a hand basket.

Since he was one of the biggest big names in the Justice League and due to his job at the Daily Planet, Clark was almost always one of, if not the first to spot new heroes. He’d seen the most unlikely people rise up to fight for what they believed in… but even he hadn’t expected a hero to emerge from Gotham City.

Gotham was a city that seemed to be tearing itself apart. For years crime and corruption had ruled over the twisted streets and the gothic architecture. There were streets where the light of day never quite managed to reach, places where a murder would never be noticed, police who were willing to do anything for money. Many people, both in and out of Gotham, believed that the city could not be saved.

No one even bothered to report on the corruption in Gotham; residents were resigned to the ever-rising crime rates and no one wanted to be reminded of it by the media. No other city cared enough to interfere… but then everything changed.

The first report from Gotham came from a man named Alexander Knox, a reporter for the Gotham Gazette. He tended to write small filler pieces for the back pages. On the night of March 25th he’d followed the police on a bust and found one of the cities’ biggest crime bosses tied to a searchlight. The man and his flunkies had rambled out a story to Knox, which he’d turned into his piece, entitled “ _GIANT BAT IN GOTHAM”._ According to the crooks some sort of giant humanoid bat had been responsible for the arrest of one of the top mobsters in Gotham.

Superman and the Justice league hadn’t known what to make of the events in Gotham—they just couldn’t tell if they were dealing with a vigilante or a hero. So they waited, hoping that more evidence would come to light, evidence that could explain Gotham’s “Bat.” They’d counted on news, counted on small stories of bravery, counted on stories that could identify, that could define the Bat as either hero or vigilante, as someone the League could help or someone the League needed to deal with.

But there were no little stories, no evidence gained slowly and steadily. One night there was no news and the next morning the world woke up to find that Gotham had stolen the headlines of every single paper.

Alexander Knox had one of the biggest stories, “ _WHO IS THE BAT?_ ” which detailed the actions of Gotham’s Bat. With the help of Jonathan Crane, the head of Gotham’s Arkham Mental Asylum. An unknown group had attacked the “Narrows”, the area of Gotham where Arkham was located, with some sort of chemical weapon that had driven thousands of people insane. Right in the center of everything was the Bat.

The Bat had supplied the police with an antidote to the chemical weapon and he had defeated the group behind it all, chasing after a speeding train in order to save millions of lives.

Along with Alexander Knox’s story there were the first pictures of Gotham’s mysterious Bat. The pictures were, quite simply, horrible. Dark, blurry and distorted by the movement of the Bat and the four men he’d been fighting. The photos had been captured by a security camera in the Narrows, and the mist didn’t help the quality of the images.

Even with the Justice League’s computers and image reconstruction software not much of the Bat’s costume could be examined. It was black, there was a cape and a cowl with stylized bat ears, and some sort of grapple which the Bat used to help him chase after the train.

Lois Lane had sensed that there was more to the story than Knox had managed to get, and so she basically annoyed Perry until he sent her to Gotham to get an exclusive for the Daily Planet. Maybe he thought that the Bat Man would be as drawn to her as Superman seemed to be.

Clark had planned to, well, spy on Lois from a distance, since he had to “stay” in Metropolis to cover Superman’s exploits in Lois’s absence. However, the Justice League had needed his help with a minor crisis, so Lois had ended up going unsupervised in Gotham, alone with the most muscular photographer the Planet could supply (it was Gotham after all). And, as was usual for her, Lois Lane had found herself in the right place at the right time.

Before the Bat’s arrival, crime in Gotham had been controlled by the Crime Families. That had been the way of things for as long as anyone could remember. When the Bat Man (as the papers had started to call him) had emerged the balance of power had shifted dramatically, which had lead to the Falcone family making a move to gain control over the others. One small family, the Galantes, had violently rebelled against the Falcones’ actions.

Lois had found herself trying to take shelter in a shop’s doorway, caught in a brawl between the Falcones and Galantes. She and her photographer probably would have died… but then the Bat Man had showed up.

Despite the very real fear that he and Lois would be killed, the photographer did his job and started taking photos of the hero. Most of those photos, since they were being taken in the middle of a violent fistfight, were only slightly better than the ones which Alexander Knox had managed to get— it just wasn’t that easy to get picture of someone who dressed in black in a dimly lit alley at night.

However Lois and the photographer saw what the camera didn’t catch, what it couldn’t catch. For someone who couldn’t see past Clark Kent’s glasses, Lois had sharp eyes, and she managed to notice something which no article about the Bat had ever mentioned.

When the last criminal fell to the ground and the Bat turned to leave, Lois stood up and pleaded with Gotham’s vigilante. She didn’t stop shouting, didn’t stop begging for one picture, just one picture, to show the world the truth. The Bat had stopped, glanced back (one of the two good pictures) and then turned to face the reporter from Metropolis.

As soon as the photographer took the shot the superhero had vanished, as if he had never been there at all.

But that didn’t matter to Lois Lane. She didn’t care how quickly the Bat managed to get away: She had her scoop and she had a photo to back up her almost unbelievable story. As images went it wasn’t anything remarkable. Gotham’s hero stood, lit from behind, but this time the image was clear .

With a lucky break and one amazing photograph Lois Lane proved what the criminals of Gotham knew (or at least suspected) but would never admit to police or reporters.

The Bat was not Batman… but _Batwoman_.

 _GOTHAM’S BAT A WOMAN_ the article screamed. The world was astonished, but that was nothing compared to the reaction in the superhero community. The few stories which had gotten out about Batwoman were not the sort of tales people were used to reading about female superheroes, no matter how powerful they were. Actually, most of the stories about Batwoman weren’t the sort of stories that people were used to reading about heroes of any gender.

Of course, at that point no one knew what abilities or powers Batwoman had, so most heroes assumed they were dealing with a meta. One of the more junior members of the Justice League had even asked Clark if it was possible that Batwoman was Kryptonian.

The members of the Justice League and heroes in general assumed that all would make sense in time, forgetting the old saying regarding assumptions.

When Lois came back to Metropolis Clark had done his best to get as much information about Batwoman as he could, but it didn’t amount to much. There weren’t many details to be had, and Lois quickly forgot how amazing it was to have another female hero. Instead she began to echo the concerns of several prominent citizens of Gotham, asking if the Batwoman was really a hero and not just some vigilante.

It didn’t take long for this fear to spread. All too soon Police Commissioner Loeb publicly announced that Gotham PD would be treating Batwoman as a criminal and would be conducting an ongoing investigation into her real identity.

To Clark it made sense that Gotham was wary of their new hero. The city had been under the control of crime and corruption for far too long to just accept a hero like Metropolis had accepted Superman. It didn’t help matters that Batwoman dressed all in black and stalked the darkest hours of the night. Superman and other heroes like the Flash had created this image of what it meant to be a hero, a sort of modern day knight in shining armor. Batwoman didn’t fit this model; she was a different sort of hero.

Batwoman wasn’t the hero that Gotham wanted, but perhaps she could become the hero they needed.

Slowly, more information came to light about Batwoman; slowly, she was seen more often around Gotham. Each article added new information, new exploits, new criminals captured. Then a young writer from Gotham, Vicki Vale, got a little creative. The remains of the crime families had been attempting a major heist at a Wayne Enterprises business. The Batwoman had swooped in and left the criminals tied up for the police, and a new photograph had been released to the public.

Wayne Enterprises had some of the most advanced security cameras in the business world. So when they released a screen cap of the heist, it had been a pretty high quality photograph.

The image was from a camera mounted on a high fence that surrounded the parking lot of the business complex. It showed Batwoman leaving the scene after she’d fought off about a dozen criminals and left them, handcuffed and dangling from the ceiling, for the police to find. In the pictures Batwoman was flying off, apparently using some sort of grappling hook, similar to what Green Arrow used to get around. What made the image visually striking was Batwoman’s costume.

In Lois’ photograph Batwoman’s arms were spread, holding back her black cape so that the rest of her outfit could be seen. The Justice League had thoroughly investigated these photographs to try and learn something about Batwoman’s suit. It appeared to be some sort of armor; if not Kevlar, then something similar. The suit looked like it had been originally designed with the military in mind. The armor didn’t try to hide Batwoman’s gender, but neither did it flaunt it. The amour just fit her properly.

In this new photograph the cape was the most interesting part of the whole outfit, at least to the Justice League. Lois had told Clark that Batwoman’s cape never seemed to get in her way during a fight, but if she stood still or walked the cape closed around her and seemed almost to seal itself at the front. Superman was willing to bet that this helped Batwoman to vanish, since the black cape would easily blend into the dark alleys of Gotham.

In the new photograph the wind and movement of the grappling hook had made the cape fly out behind Batwoman, much like Superman’s cape did when he was flying. However the cape had a sort of ragged bottom, which seemed to be purely cosmetic, making it look like Batwoman had demonic wings.

What had made Viki Vale’s piece amazing was the title of the article she’d built around the picture. “ _GOTHAM’S DARK KNIGHT._ ” Every reporter who had written anything about Batwoman had gotten tired of saying her name over and over again, so they instantly accepted the new title for Gotham’s mysterious masked woman.


	2. Ultra Vires

**_Ultra Vires = Latin for “Beyond Powers”_ **

At roughly the same time that Vicki Vale created a new title for Batwoman, various members of the Justice League took it upon themselves to contact her… only to find themselves unable to do so. Most new heroes could be fairly easily discovered, at least by other heroes. The Justice League would contact the new hero and help him or her hide themselves better. In rare cases when they couldn’t do this Superman or one of the other heavy hitters would go to meet the new hero face to face.

One by one the members of the Justice League took it upon themselves to contact her, only for every single member to fail. Even heroes with magic based abilities or powers like telepathy couldn’t find Batwoman. It didn’t take long for several members of the Justice League to decide that they needed to drop by Gotham and meet Batwoman face to face.

The members of the League hoped to run into the Dark Knight while she was on patrol, but that didn’t work. Some of the League members caught a glimpse of Batwoman, but when they tried to approach her she would just vanish into the twisting alleys of Gotham.

One or two heroes had tried to just camp out somewhere in Gotham, thinking that maybe Batwoman wanted to be in control of the situation. At first Batwoman just ignored them and the heroes eventually admitted defeat, leaving with the sunrise.

Then, after a few more heroes started camping out in Gotham, Batwoman reacted.

Green Lantern had been camped out on top of Wayne Enterprises’ Headquarters, when something had imbedded itself in the wall, missing his face by millimeters. It turned out to be a small black throwing weapon, similar to a ninja’s throwing star but shaped like a bat. Attached to this weapon was a short message: _Stay out of my city._

Even with the abilities given to him by his ring, Green Lantern hadn’t been able to find Batwoman, though she had to have been pretty close to throw the bat-thing.

Green Lantern had taken the small weapon back to the Justice League for analysis. A quick search through the Gotham PD database and J’onn revealed that the police had started calling the projectiles “Batarangs”. A thorough inspection of the Batarang by the more scientifically inclined members of the League revealed no way of tracing the weapon. Green Arrow was the most helpful member of the League when it came to the Batarang. It was Ollie who suggested that Batwoman made her own weapons, like he did, in order to avoid detection. When it came to the note the trail went nowhere. The paper was common, sold in every city and the pen was a cheap ballpoint, the kind you got for free. While the note was handwritten, it was too short for any sort of analysis.

Once again the Justice League hit a dead end in the search for Batwoman. Most of the League saw this as a good thing, believing her ability to hide her identity would protect her, but despite her ability to hide Superman was starting to worry about the Dark Knight. He hadn’t been a part of the effort to track down Batwoman, having chosen to leave that to other members of the League. All he knew about Batwoman was what everyone else knew.

But Superman knew that even he sometimes needed backup. He didn’t like the idea of Batwoman, who was rapidly becoming one of the more well-known heroes, whose exploits were garnering wider and wider attention, being alone. As good as she was, there was always the chance that she would find herself in a bad situation… and unless the League managed to contact her she would have no one to call on for help.

Clark didn’t want to find out Batwoman’s identity by reading an obituary in the Gotham Gazette.

It was strangely fitting that the first member of the Justice League to have a real encounter with Batwoman was Green Arrow, also known as Oliver Queen, the CEO of Queen Enterprises. His company had, for several months, been involved in a joint venture with Wayne Enterprises. The venture had been extremely successful, netting both companies enormous profits, which lead to a celebratory party in Gotham, hosted by Rachel Wayne herself.

Rachel Wayne had inherited Wayne Enterprises and had become well known in high society, carrying the titles of “Gotham’s Favorite Daughter” and “Gotham’s Princess.” Clark had never worked at a Wayne Party; he’d never been in the same room as Rachel Wayne but, according to Ollie, Rachel threw a hell of a party, even if you were just a lowly reporter.

Oliver Queen and Rachel Wayne had gone on several high-profile dates even though Ollie had told most of the senior members of the Justice League that the romance was just something that was expected of them. The rich only dated the rich and/or famous, therefore Oliver Queen was always a guest of honor at Rachel’s parties, even the ones which didn’t directly involve his company.

The invite to Gotham had been a perfect opportunity for Green Arrow to investigate Batwoman. It wouldn’t be too hard for him to gather information, both in and out of costume. The Justice League agreed with Ollie and supplied him with some tech to use in order to analyze Batwoman and settled down to wait for Ollie to report back.

Shortly before Green Arrow went to Gotham to find Batwoman a new sort of criminal had appeared in the dark city. Costumed villains, the sort of criminals who tended to appear anywhere that a superhero set up shop. It had taken longer than usual for Gotham to turn out a villain to face off with Batwoman… but when Gotham revealed her darker side she didn’t disappoint.

He called himself the Joker. He appeared to be nothing more than a madman. At some point in his past the Joker had been mutilated, so that his face was stuck in a permanent smile. The Joker added to the effect by painting his face white, with dark circles around his eyes and red lipstick smeared over his lips and scars.

The Joker had exploded onto the scene in Gotham with a string of high profile bank robberies, bombings and random violence. He’d blown up Gotham General Hospital, which had thankfully been evacuated before the bombs went off. The Joker had also killed the Police Commissioner and fought Batwoman several times.

When Oliver got to Gotham the Joker was safely behind bars in Arkham, placed there by Batwoman after a dramatic show down on top of a half-constructed building. She’d managed to save the hostages and capture the Joker before he could follow through with a threat to destroy two full ferries in Gotham harbor.

While the Joker had been thrown in Arkham, the police and Batwoman hadn’t been able to track down all of his minions. It seemed like there were always more mad men and women ready to join the “Clown Prince of Crime.”

Despite Batwoman’s best efforts crime was still common on the streets and alleys of Gotham, but the city was slowly changing. The search for Batwoman had been “suspended indefinitely” by the new Police Commissioner, James Gordon. Shortly after he made that announcement a large searchlight had appeared on the roof of GPD headquarters, a light which cast the shadow of a bat on to the skies of Gotham.

The Joker’s minions who hadn’t been picked up by the police and/or Batwoman had banded together with other lowlifes and crashed Rachel Wayne’s party. Apparently their plan was to take everyone hostage and then threaten to start killing people if their boss wasn’t released from the mad house.

Less than five seconds after the minions entered Rachel Wayne’s penthouse, Batwoman appeared. Half of the criminals had almost instantly turned and run, while the braver but less intelligent half found themselves fighting the Dark Knight, and losing horribly.

In all the confusion it had been easy for Ollie to pull out the scanner that the Justice League had given him and point it at Batwoman. The scanner actually looked like a cell phone, making him look like another stupid rich kid trying to use his phone to take a video of the Dark Knight. The machine was designed to analyze and detect metahumans, meaning that it should have given him at least a general idea of what kind of powers Batwoman possessed.

When Green Arrow saw the results he almost dropped the scanner in shock, although part of him wasn’t surprised at what the scanner showed.

Nothing. Nothing at all.

Batwoman didn’t have any superpowers.

She wasn’t a metahuman. She didn’t have any sort of enhanced abilities like the Flash or Wonder Man. She was just an ordinary human woman. Well an ordinary human woman who had, for some unknown reason, decided to go out and beat up criminals while dressed like a bat.

After allowing himself a moment to get over his astonishment at Batwoman’s lack of superpowers, Ollie did his best to shift to detective mode and study how Batwoman fought.

It was an… interesting style. The sheer number of different techniques that Batwoman incorporated was staggering: it was almost like all of humanity’s martial arts had been compressed into a single elegant and efficient style.

When all of the Joker’s henchmen had either fled the scene, been knocked unconscious or tied up, Batwoman quickly scanned the room before walking out to the balcony. Several of the party goers had already started to stagger towards her, questions beginning to form in their throats. Before they could ask any of those questions Batwoman jumped off the balcony. Like everyone else at the party, Ollie had rushed to the edge, expecting to see a dark stain on the concrete far below.

Instead he had seen Batwoman, with her cloak spread out behind her and somehow acting like a glider. She vanished behind another building at the same time that the police showed up to take care of the criminals and Rachel Wayne was discovered with her butler. She’d apparently been telling him to open more champagne when the thugs had arrived. The older man, who had practically raised the young millionaire, wisely hid himself and his employer.

After the party Oliver remained in Gotham for a week to ensure that the finishing touches on his project with Wayne Enterprises went smoothly. In between social obligations with Ms. Wayne and business meetings with employees of the two companies, there hadn’t been much opportunity for Ollie to go out as Green Arrow.

He had put in a brief appearance, just one night of patrolling the streets, hoping that Batwoman would be friendlier when confronted with a non-meta hero. Despite his best efforts, though, the Dark Knight hadn’t appeared… at least while Ollie was in costume.

Batwoman had been made famous by the crimes she stopped at night, but slowly the hero was starting to branch out, to emerge during the day. It was during his time in the city in his real identity that Ollie had been able to catch a few glimpses of Batwoman, always from a distance. Usually it would be after a long day of business meetings that Ollie would look out the window of his hotel or a window at Wayne Enterprises to see a black shadow making its way across the roofs of Gotham.

Batwoman appeared to have two different means of transportation. One was a combination of a grappling hook and gliding with her cape. This was, according to everyone Ollie talked to, the most common way she was seen traveling around Gotham While the city was large the areas where problems arose were quite close together. If the Dark Knight needed to travel a little further than normal or had to get somewhere in a hurry she pulled out a vehicle that people were calling either the “Batmobile” or the “Tumbler”.

Whatever it was called, Batwoman’s vehicle seemed to be halfway between a car and a tank. It seemed to handle like a luxury car, hugging the road no matter what sort of crazy turns Batwoman took, but was able to withstand almost anything. It was apparently the second vehicle that Batwoman had owned, since reports indicated that Batwoman’s first vehicle had been destroyed during a car chase with the Joker. For a while after the destruction Batwoman had been seen riding a sort of motorcycle, which she still occasionally used.

Through he hadn’t seen much of Batwoman’s tech, Ollie was able to gain enough information through various sources to decide that Batwoman had to either be a thief or have a wealthy benefactor. Most of her technology seemed to be refurbished military designs, the sort of stuff that the Army didn’t think was worth the cost of production. It was extremely unlikely that Batwoman had stolen the technology, since a theft of that magnitude would have been reported by any company capable of producing the technology.

Rachel Wayne would have been the most obvious candidate for employing Batwoman, but due to her personal history Wayne had a firm stance against violence and weapons. She’d stopped Wayne Enterprises from developing offensive technology for the military when she’d taken over control of the company.

Ollie managed to gather some good information but it wasn’t what the League had hoped he would find. And in a way it was what the entire League had feared would happen. While Batwoman had given vague threats to heroes who entered her city, Ollie was the first to experience a new, darker side of the Gotham’s hero.

Batwoman followed him home.

Ollie had returned to his office at Queen Enterprises and found a batarang stuck in the wood of his desk. None of the security alarms had been activated, although the cameras had been disrupted; it was obvious that Batwoman had been there.

The batarang held down another short note from Gotham’s Dark Knight.

_I don’t care if Oliver Queen comes to Gotham, but leave the tights at home, Arrow._

When he was in Gotham, both in and out of costume, Ollie had been careful. Being careful was part of his life, it was what he did, change quickly and quietly, making sure that no one followed him home, but somehow Batwoman had managed to figure out the name behind the mask. This had instantly placed the Justice League on red alert, as every member of the League scrambled to double and then triple check that their identities were secure. Everyone at the League expected some sort of reprisal from Batwoman but no attack ever came.

Once again the League had failed to track down the woman behind the Bat suit. The Dark Knight of Gotham remained a mystery. As her role in reclaiming Gotham from the grip of crime became more well known reporters grew used to writing about her. Soon other villains besides the Joker appeared, starting their own battles with the mysterious woman.

Even as Gotham managed to come to a sort of hesitant acceptance of Batwoman, there were those, like Lois Lane, who grew ever more disinterested in Batwoman, calling her a “common thug” and a “lawless vigilante”.

Through all of this Superman did his best to ignore Batwoman, and Gotham in general. After all, if Batwoman could discover that Oliver Queen was Green Arrow, then she could probably figure out a way to contact someone in the Justice League or another hero if she really needed help, not that Clark could actually imagine Batwoman ever admitting that she needed help, let alone asking for it.


	3. Inter Spem Et Metum

**_Inter Spem Et Metum = Latin for “Between Hope And Fear”_ **

Clark Kent had originally thought that it would be best to just forget that Gotham City existed. Unfortunately for him, Rachel Wayne was coming to Metropolis and, as a news reporter for the Daily Planet, Clark couldn’t really ignore the Wayne heir.

If you believed the rumors, Lex Luthor was in the middle of courting the Wayne heiress. The young woman had been seen on almost every wealthy bachelor’s arm, but recently every time Wayne appeared in public, she was on Luthor’s. The tabloids couldn’t decide if Luthor was _actually_ courting Wayne, or if he was just trying to gain control of her company. Clark was willing to bet it was both.

Rachel Wayne was en route to Metropolis as a guest of Lex Luthor. LexCorp and Wayne Enterprises had been working on a project together for several months and were apparently very close to having something to show for all the work and money that had gone into whatever it was. So Luthor had invited Wayne to Metropolis to witness the final rounds of the product’s testing.

Among news reporters, Rachel Wayne was known as a notoriously hard person to interview. The wealthy young woman didn’t give many, if any, real interviews. When she did talk with the press she turned the interview into a farce: all of her answers would appear to be typical “air-headed rich kid” replies, but were actually complicated jokes and jabs at the interviewer. They were the sort of interviews that you read and then found yourself laughing about three days later when you realized that Wayne had been setting up some sort of joke.

So when Perry White, editor of the Daily Planet, heard that Rachel Wayne was coming to Metropolis, he’d decided not to take any chances when it came to who to assign. He gave Clark and Lois the story, hoping that the young woman would take a shine to one of the two and maybe they’d get an actual story from the socialite.

Clark Kent liked to be prepared for every article he was assigned. Because of Batwoman, he’d been mostly ignoring Gotham, so all Clark knew about Rachel Wayne was that she was an orphan and (possibly) richer then Luthor; magazines tended not to directly compare rich men and women.

So Clark had settled down to do research on the “Princess of Gotham.” To be perfectly honest, Clark hadn’t expected to get caught up in the young woman’s story.

Rachel Antonietta Wayne, only child of Thomas and Martha Wayne. Her parents had both been from old money and high society, but neither had been content to merely live off their inheritance. Martha had been an active philanthropist, while Thomas had been a surgeon who gave his paycheck back to Gotham General Hospital to help the less fortunate pay their medical bills.

The Waynes had been good people and they appeared to have tried to give their daughter as close to a normal life as possible. While Thomas and Martha were frequently featured in the papers, Rachel had only appeared a few times, smiling at the camera as she held her parents’ hands.

But then everything in Rachel’s life had turned upside down.

A family trip to the movies had turned into a tragedy that came to define the heiress’s life. A man had pulled a gun on the family and demanded that they hand over their cash and jewelry. Thomas had handed his wallet over without a fuss, but Martha’s shaking made it difficult for her to take off her pearl necklace. The criminal had gotten nervous and, seeing this, Thomas had stepped in front of his wife and daughter, trying to shield them. He’d only been trying to calm the man down.

Perhaps it was only a mistake, a slip of the finger… It didn’t matter why or how. In the end, all that mattered was that a shot was fired.

Thomas Wayne fell. Martha Wayne screamed and the thief silenced her. Rachel Wayne, only eight years old, was left standing in a dingy alley with the bodies of her dead parents.

Clark was roughly two years older than Rachel Wayne. He could dimly remember his father reading the paper the day after the Waynes were killed. The only reason the memory had stuck in his mind was the picture: Rachel Wayne staring blankly ahead, her father’s coat in her arms,, looking like a ghost in black and white as a faceless officer ushered her into a squad car. It was the kind of photograph which stuck with you, no matter how you tried to forget.

When the police finally found the man who had killed Gotham’s royalty it had been a disappointment to the city. They’d wanted an evil man, someone who should pay for killing the Waynes… the city wanted someone to blame, the people of Gotham wanted revenge.

What they got was a small time crook, a nobody by the name of Joe Chill. It hadn’t taken long for the man to be tried and sent away for life. And the moment he went away, Rachel Wayne had somehow escaped the spotlight too.

She’d attended the most private and prestigious of private schools, and generally lived a life that the tabloids weren’t interested in. Her appearances in the papers were rare, usually occurring on or around the anniversary of her parents’ deaths. A picture would appear, showing a beautiful young woman walking next to an older gentleman. The man was the Wayne family butler, Alfred Pennyworth, who had been given custody of Rachel after the death of her parents.

Eight years ago Joe Chill had been released from jail. Apparently his early release had been part of an effort to take down one of Gotham’s crime families. Rachel Wayne had returned to Gotham for the hearing and had even been in the court house when the man was released. When the Judge had asked if she had anything to say, Rachel had just stared at the man, before turning and leaving the court room.

Not that it mattered, all things considered. Only seconds after Joe Chill was released he was shot, killed in order to protect the crime families of Gotham. None of the reporters had picked up on this, but in the footage of the murder Clark could see Rachel Wayne in the background, watching wide eyed as the man died in front of her.

Then Rachel Wayne seemed to fall off the face of the Earth: she never returned home after witnessing Joe Chill’s murder. Before the customary forty-eight hours were up the Gotham PD were out searching for her, but nothing came to light. The search for Rachel Wayne just went on and on, until a dark winter morning when the police were forced to admit that the trail had gone cold.

Six years passed and the CEO of Wayne Enterprises wanted to take the company public, so he started the process of declaring Rachel Wayne legally dead. By that time most people, in and outside of Gotham, believed that Rachel Wayne had been killed by one of Gotham’s criminal families. It wasn’t that uncommon for people in Gotham to just vanish. Despite this the CEO’s actions had given rise to conspiracy theories that he was responsible for Rachel’s death. The police had investigated, but no link was found and no charges were filed.

A little less than two years after Rachel Wayne disappeared she was declared legally dead. Her will had not been made public, but most people agreed that she’d left everything to Alfred Pennyworth. The former Butler kept to himself, tending to Wayne Manor. The only reporter who had bothered to talk to him noted that the man seemed to be waiting “as if he still believed that Rachel Wayne was going to come home at any moment.”

Slowly the world lost interest in Rachel Wayne. She’d become just another sad story about Gotham’s slide into crime and corruption. No one had noticed when, one quiet Sunday morning, Alfred Pennyworth left Wayne Mansion and boarded a private plane out of the country. His departure was discovered after the fact.

What they did notice was the private plane which returned with Rachel Wayne onboard. There were only one or two photographs taken of the billionaire when she’d returned to Gotham. Rachel Wayne had been thin, as if she hadn’t had enough to eat in a long time, and had a tired look in her eyes, eyes which seemed to belong to a much older woman.

No one had figured out where Rachel Wayne had been for six years. All the heiress would say was that she’d been visiting friends in the East. Rumors circulated that Alfred Pennyworth had sent Rachel Wayne to a private mental health facility after the young woman had suffered some sort of nervous break.

Once again Gotham couldn’t get enough of the Wayne heiress. Gotham’s citizens had celebrated her return to the city and quickly the young woman had claimed her spot in high society. It didn’t take long for her to start appearing in the papers and tabloids, usually on the arm of Lex Luthor, Oliver Queen or some other obscenely wealthy man.

Once, not too long ago, Ollie had explained to Clark that Rachel was only dating him and the other rich men because it was what society expected of her. It was okay for a rich man to be a playboy and sleep with anyone that caught his eye, but a rich woman had to keep an air of respectability. According to Ollie, he and Rachel were actually something close to friends, even if they did have a somewhat… unhealthy rivalry. Though he knew it was a farce, Ollie enjoyed his dates with Rachel.

While earning herself the titles of “Gotham’s Favorite Daughter” and “The Princess of Gotham,” Rachel had also been busy making a name for herself in the business world. Upon her return to Gotham she’d taken a position in the Research and Development section of Wayne Enterprises. It was clear to everyone that the job was nothing more than a public relations stunt, so Wayne Enterprises could set itself up as a company that cared about family and tradition.

But when Wayne Enterprises went public Rachel Wayne surprised everyone when she acquired a majority of the shares. Less than a day after Wayne Enterprises went public Rachel had thrown out the old CEO and placed Lucius Fox in charge of her family’s company. When Fox took control Wayne Enterprises had drastically changed, dropping almost all of their military contracts, keeping only the ones which did not involve lethal weapons. Wayne Enterprises had gone from a typical Gotham company to being a model of ethical conduct, and in the process managed to make almost unbelievable profits.

Gossip column writers liked to joke that Rachel only had an office at Wayne Enterprises so that she could crash there after a night spent partying downtown. But a closer look made it clear that the Princess was a more than competent businesswoman, frequently working very closely with Fox on some of the more successful Wayne Enterprise projects.

The night before Rachel Wayne was to arrive in Metropolis Clark had picked up a copy of the Gotham Gazette and quickly flipped through it. There was a brief mention of Rachel Wayne’s upcoming trip, but the paper was mostly concerned with the Joker. The Clown Prince of Crime had recently attacked a small antiques store, putting the owner in the hospital and taking a single item. The madman had stolen a jade statue of a Chinese Dragon, which was estimated to be worth roughly $100,000. Armed robbery in Gotham was common enough; the theft had only made the paper due to the Joker’s involvement, and the fact that Batwoman had been spotted at the crime scene talking with Commissioner Gordon.

The Justice League believed that Commissioner James Gordon was… not exactly a _friend_ of Batwoman, but at least mostly responsible for Gotham PD’s sudden acceptance of the Dark Knight. Gordon had been involved in almost all of the cases which Batwoman was believed to have helped crack. Even before becoming Police Commissioner, Gordon had been “in the right place at the right time” a few too many times. Rumor had it that Gordon could often been seen waiting by the “Bat Signal” for Batwoman to show up.

Despite not knowing the real agreement between the Police Commissioner of Gotham and Batwoman, the League was fairly confident that Gordon didn’t know Batwoman’s real identity.

The day of Rachel Wayne’s arrival was normal enough. Well, normal for Superman. Sure, some terrorists had tried to take over Air Force One, Lois Lane had been “heroic” yet stupid and Superman had swooped in and saved the day. Once again he’d gotten the President’s personal thanks, Lois Lane had tried to flirt with him and Superman had had to figure out the kindest way to say that he wasn’t interested. Clark was almost tempted to ask Halle Jordan or one of the other female members of the Justice League to pretend to be his girlfriend for a week or so.

A well timed robbery at the First National Bank had meant that Clark didn’t have to awkwardly reject a date with Lois. The robbers had been normal humans with guns and were quickly dealt with, giving Clark time to change out of the tights and ensure his suit wasn’t too rumpled before he had to meet up with Lois at LexCorp private airfield, arriving only minutes before Wayne was scheduled to arrive.

Lois had made it quite clear to Clark that she wasn’t interested in Rachel Wayne, having already written her off as another ditzy rich kid. The only prep work that Lois had done for the article was a lunch time chat with Cat Grant, the Daily Planet’s gossip columnist. This meant that Lois knew all about the rumors of Rachel Wayne and Lex Luthor being more then business partners, which meant that was what Lois would most likely focus on.

As Clark moved to join Lois, he sent up a silent prayer that she would at least _try_ to make a good impression on Gotham’s Princess.

Lois Lane greeted Clark in the usual way, giving him a playful swat on his shoulder and insulting his choice in suits. Clark, as usual, smiled and replied cheerfully before turning to the crowd of reporters, seeing who he knew and who he didn’t. There were several new faces in the crowd, most likely Gotham reporters who had flown in to cover their Princess’s exploits in Metropolis.

The crowd fell silent as Rachel Wayne’s luxurious private jet landed and taxied over to the group of reporters and photographers. The door was opened by a male flight attendant, who silently ensured the stairs were in place before stepping back.

Rachel Wayne stepped out into the bright sunlight of Metropolis and the reporters’ silence was broken by shouted questions and the clatter of cameras. She hadn’t even been in Metropolis for ten minutes and already Wayne had surprised reporters who were used to a man flying around in tights.

Most wealthy and/or famous women would have shown up in ridiculously high stilettos and a tiny little “sexy” dress. Not Rachel Wayne.

She was wearing well cut dark jeans, with no fake fading or “artistic” rips. Several silver chains hung from her belt and draped across her hip. She wore a black vest over a white shirt with the top buttons undone. Instead of the stilettos or high heels that the reporters had expected, she wore black military boots. A black beaded chocker completed the look, along with a silver chain connected to a pendant hidden by her shirt. Her black hair curled gently around her shoulders. When she turned to speak with someone behind her, Clark caught a glimpse of gold hoop earrings.

Clark blinked and shook his head, turning back towards Lois as he realized, while he’d been staring, Lois had been talking to him. He hadn’t heard a word. He really did try to concentrate on Lois, but his gaze kept drifting off towards Rachel Wayne. Clark sighed softly, pulling out his notebook and pen, glancing over the notes he’d already memorized. He’d only just managed to catch up with what Lois was saying when his train of thought was interrupted again.

“Excuse me, aren’t you the _famous_ Lois Lane?”

Clark turned around a bit too fast, and managed to knock into Rachel Wayne. She stumbled back a few steps, while Clark dropped his notebook, spilling his loose papers everywhere.

“I’m sorry!” The billionaire apologized immediately, and Clark was surprised to find that she didn’t seem to be lying.

Rachel Wayne smiled at Clark before bending down to help him pick up the papers. The two stood up at the same time, Lois watching with wide eyes as Rachel Wayne held out the papers for Clark. As he put them back in his notebook, Rachel turned towards Lois. “I heard about your adventure on Air Force One. You’re quite the newsmaker!”

“No more then you.” Lois managed to reply as she looked between Clark and Rachel.

The heiress’ eyes shifted towards Clark once again and he found himself fidgeting under her intense gaze. “So that means you’re Clark Kent!” Rachel smiled once more. “Your articles are always a pleasure to read. That piece you did recently, the one on ‘Suicide Slum’, I couldn’t put it down!”

Clark blinked, astonished that Rachel Wayne had actually read his article. Thanks to Superman’s exploits and the other, more “popular” news stories, that piece had been buried deep in the Daily Planet. It was made all the more impressive by the fact that popular opinion held that she only just knew how to read.

“So what brings Rachel Wayne to Metropolis?” Clark finally managed to ask.

To his surprise, Rachel actually seemed ready to answer his question when Mercy Graves, Lex Luthor’s personal bodyguard/assistant arrived.

“Miss Wayne, we shall be late for your appointment.” Mercy’s voice was strained, but polite. It was surprising to see Mercy acting as Rachel Wayne’s driver, as she usually worked exclusively for Lex Luthor. It certainly supported the rumors that Lex actually felt something for the Princess of Gotham.

“Well we can’t have that, can we?” Rachel huffed, rolling her eyes and blowing a lock of hair out of her face. It was an oddly childish move.

_It’s like she’s putting on a mask._ Clark thought as Rachel snapped her fingers.

Almost instantly an older man wearing a formal tuxedo appeared at Rachel’s side. Alfred Pennyworth, the Wayne family butler who had raised Rachel Wayne after her parents’ death.

“Alfred? Set up an interview with these two,” Rachel said with a yawn, covering her mouth with one hand. “Tomorrow should work. Someplace nice- oh! We can go have dinner at that new rooftop restaurant!”

“Of course, Miss Wayne.” Alfred replied, his response drawing a vacant (patently false) smile from his employer. She waved goodbye to Lois and Clark before following Mercy to the limo and sliding into the back seat. Mercy shut the door behind the heiress, then quickly got in and drove away.

After a quick talk with Alfred to find a mutually convenient time for the interview, Clark made sure he thanked the man. After all, Alfred was practically Rachel’s father, so it was safe to assume that anything Clark said or did would be reported back to the billionaire. When Alfred left Lois smirked and playfully punched Clark’s shoulder.

“Nice going, Smallville!” She laughed. “Looks like we got the interview Perry wanted!”

Clark sighed and once again resisted the urge to roll his eyes as Lois rushed through her goodbyes and sped off, saying something about finding an appropriate dress to wear for the interview tomorrow.

“Great…” Clark sighed to himself, unsure if he was happy or not. After making a quick scan to ensure that no one was looking at him and that no cameras were pointed in his direction, Clark took off, quickly becoming Superman and starting a patrol of the city, hoping it would take his mind off the Princess of Gotham.

It didn’t take Superman long before he found himself involved in something that was quite a bit darker than the typical Metropolis criminal activity.

The police had been called in after a man was found lying in the trash at the Metropolis dump. He was one of the city’s mob bosses, though perhaps it would be better to say that he _had_ been one of the city’s mob bosses. His face had been mutilated, cut so that he had a gaping wound on each side of his mouth. If not for the stitches and bandages that the hospital had applied, it would have been clear to everyone that the man wore a “Glasgow smile”.

At the same time that he’d been cut the man had also been exposed to some sort of gas. The emergency room’s staff had found traces of an unidentified chemical in the man’s wounds, as well as around his face and nose. They hadn’t been able to identify the substance, not that they needed to.

Although the man was heavily sedated, every now and then he would appear to wake up, only to start laughing uncontrollably, his entire body shaking with the force of his crazed laughter.

The facial mutilation, the chemical, the strange laughter… they were all parts of an equation and the answer wasn’t one Superman liked. They were the trademarked calling cards of the Joker. The Joker, who was Batwoman’s first real enemy. The Joker, who had never struck outside of Gotham before.

Clark was worried for his city but at the same time he was strangely hopeful.

If the Joker had really come to Metropolis, then Gotham’s Dark Knight couldn’t be too far away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: About Batwoman's name:
> 
> I couldn’t think of any female names that started with a B that I liked. Rachel is a favorite name of mine, so I decided to go with that. Apparently Rachel can mean "one with purity" which I thought was strangely fitting for the Dark Knight.
> 
> I did a little research and, apparently, Bruce Wayne has no "official" middle name in the DC Universe, although "Anthony" is generally accepted as his unofficial middle name by fans.
> 
> Rachel's middle name (Antonietta) is a female version of Anthony and derived from antionos which means "first-born", I also found some sites that said it means "Priceless".


	4. Ego Te Provoco

**_Ego Te Provoco  = Latin for “I Provoke You / I Dare You”_ **

Rachel Wayne’s invitation was for dinner at Connect, Metropolis’s most exclusive new restaurant. Clark had pulled out his best suit and tried to ignore Lois’ complaints about how it had been impossible to find a suitable dress in her price range. The two reporters had arrived at the restaurant before Wayne, but thankfully the heiress (or more likely Alfred) had called ahead. So instead of having to stand around outside the restaurant the two reporters had been able to take their seats as they waited for Wayne.

It had been a long wait. Just as Lois was about to suggest that the Wayne heiress had stood them up the doors opened and Rachel Wayne seemed to glide into the room.

There was no doubt Rachel dressed to draw the eye. The low hem of her black silk dress rippled round her ankles. Her hair was pulled up in a ponytail, with a few strands left loose, as if they’d just fallen out.

“I’m sorry to have kept you two waiting,” Rachel smiled as she sat, placing herself at Lois’ right hand and across from Clark. “Lex was trying to convince me to invest in some sort of defense project… thing.” Rachel trailed off with a shrug.

Clark could almost hear Lois’ eyes rolling as he smiled “Thank you for this interview Miss Wayne-”

“Call me Rachel.”

Lois blinked and Clark found himself fighting a blush as Rachel smirked.

“Rachel…” Clark trailed off as Lois smirked, leaned forward. Clark recognized this action: it was one of a set when Lois was getting ready to ask a question, and Clark was sure he knew which question Lois was about to spring on Rachel.

In every interview with Rachel Wayne the first question was always about her parents. Clark had read and watched the clips, and every time that question was asked it was clear that Rachel hated it.

“Obvious question first,” Clark said, cutting Lois off. “Do you believe the rumors that Lex Luthor is only entertaining you in hopes of gaining control over Wayne Enterprises?”

It was like a mask had fallen from Rachel’s face. Clark realized that he was being given a rare gift: the chance to see the “real” Rachel Wayne. For a few seconds all Rachel did was stare at Clark in shock, as the reporter did his best to look calm and composed. Lois was about to step in and try to run damage control when Rachel did something that neither of them had been expecting.

She started laughing, and quite suddenly Clark found himself laughing along with her. Lois just stared at the two of them, clearly thinking that they’d both gone off the deep end. Rachel clapped a hand to her mouth in an attempt to control her laughter.

“I think everyone knows that Lex wants to acquire my company.” Rachel smiled as she spoke. “But right now he’s more concerned with impressing me with our joint project.”

“And what exactly is this project?” Lois asked, managing to control her surprise over receiving a straight answer.

“We’re calling it the WayneLex T7. Basically it’s a robot, intended to be used for unmanned space exploration.” Rachel replied, running a finger around the rim of her glass. Her eyes never left Clark’s. “The project is passing all the tests we throw at it with flying colors, but Lex seems to believe that I want to sell the tech to the Pentagon.” Rachel shrugged. “I was all too happy to leave at that point, after making it clear that nothing like that will be happening.”

“Do you think this will end up in court?” Clark asked, remembering to at least pretend to take notes.

“Only if he’s very foolish, and I doubt Lex is capable of being foolish.” Rachel replied. “I made sure that one of the agreements between LexCorp and Wayne Enterprises is that I have final say on the final application of the technology we create.”

“So you actually have a say in the management of Wayne Enterprises?” Lois asked.

“I may not be the CEO of Wayne Enterprises, Miss Lane, but I like to ensure that the company which carries my family’s name is among the world’s finest.” Rachel smiled as a waiter arrived with food that Clark didn’t remember ordering. “Now, I know you’re reporters, but you two do seem to be the experts on Superman…”

“Lois tends to run into him,” Clark shrugged, wondering where Rachel was going with her inquiries. “You’re interested in Superman?”

Rachel shrugged.” What else is there to talk about in Metropolis?” She leaned forward, resting her chin in that hand. “So Superman just appears when there’s trouble? No special signal?”

“He’s not like your Batwoman, thank god.” Lois sighed as she stirred her drink.

“Then how do you contact him?” Rachel asked, her gaze shifting to Lois.

“Committing a felony usually helps.” Clark smirked as he tried to picture Rachel committing a crime just to meet Superman.

“I’m not sure my PR associate would agree to that.” Rachel smirked.

“You seem really interested in Superman; do you want me to set you two up?” Lois snapped at Gotham’s favorite daughter.

“Sorry!” Rachel ‘smiled’ as she held up her hands in mock surrender.

_How can anyone think that’s a real smile?_ Clark wondered.

“It’s okay.” Lois sighed. “I’ve just found myself a little consumed with Superman recently. I was hoping that I could get away from the Man of Steel for just one night.”

Lois and Clark managed to get in a few more standard questions over dinner, before Rachel checked a watch Clark hadn’t realized she was wearing. The billionaire excused herself and stood, bidding the two goodbye before gliding across the dance floor and out of the restaurant.

Without thinking about it Clark followed her with his X-ray vision, watching Rachel step into a sleek black limo and speed away, probably off to some party Lex was throwing for the rich and famous of Metropolis.

After exchanging goodbyes with Lois, Clark returned to his apartment and wrote up his notes about the interview as quickly as possible without breaking his computer. He fired off an email to Lois containing his notes and an outline of the article. As soon as he finished his work for the Daily Planet Clark set out for the more disreputable side of town, where the criminal element gathered. He had sources there. Hopefully they would be able to give him information about the Joker.

A few bars later and all Clark had to show for it was a lighter wallet, clothing that smelled like smoke and promises from his contacts, but no real information. Not long after Superman found himself hovering near the Daily Planet, eyes closed as he listened to the world..

It took him several seconds to realize that something was happening in Metropolis, not far from where he was. In another handful of seconds he found himself hovering high above Rockers, a local dance club popular with mobsters.

Dinko had, at one time, been an enforcer for the Falconi family. When Batwoman had started her crusade against the crime families of Gotham, the crook had fled the city and eventually ended up in Metropolis. There, he’d managed to regain his former position. He wasn’t a leader or particularly important in the grand scheme of things, but he knew people and he had information about the families.

The only reason that he was in trouble was because it had been his boss who had been found mutilated and laughing in the city dump. He’d probably been planning on having a nice evening at Rockers with his girlfriends, but unfortunately for him, someone much more important had shown up and started a brawl.

When Superman arrived on the scene he found Batwoman already interrogating Dinko, and for a moment all Superman could do was stare.

Looking at photographs of Batwoman was nothing like as seeing the woman in the flesh. For one thing, her outfit looked much more impressive in real life. Superman could tell that a lot of thought and research had gone into her suit. The cape that Oliver had seen Batwoman glide with was oddly fluid. It would have had to be structured for her to glide using it, and yet there was no framework to be seen. It reached the ground, closing seamlessly at the front, but obscured her silhouette when she moved, the fabric blending with the shadows..

Batwoman had Dinko pressed up against a wall of the club with one hand. The crook was screaming that he didn’t know where the Joker was as Batwoman slowly restricted his air.

At that point Superman thought it was best to step in. He placed a hand on Batwoman’s shoulder, on the arm she was using to hold Dinko against the wall.

“That’s enough. I think you’ve got your answer.”

Batwoman sent him flying.

Dinko took advantage of Batwoman’s loosened grip and ran for it. Clark caught her before she could follow, knocking her into the wall and dropping her to her knees.

“I heard you were crazy, but I didn’t think you were stupid,” Superman remarked as he focused on Batwoman’s mask, only to find that he couldn’t see through it. His surprise must have shown on his face, because Batwoman smirked.

“You peeked,” she said, a playful note in her voice.

“I won’t have vigilantism in my town,” Superman retorted, wincing at how utterly stupid that sounded coming from a man wearing tights and a cape.

“You’ll be rid of me,” Batwoman replied, rising to her feet, her cape falling around her and obscuring her, “as soon as I find the Joker.”

“I’m afraid that won’t be soon enough,” Superman replied, crossing his arms. “I can deal with him.”

With an exaggerated motion, Batwoman raised her arm, tossing back the cape as she held out a fist. Clark’s eyes instantly focused on the glove covered hand as it slowly opened, revealing a familiar green light.

Almost instantly Clark felt sick to his stomach and his legs started to tremble. It took all his strength just to keep himself from collapsing. Superman backed away, only for Batwoman to follow him at a leisurely pace, still holding out the kryptonite.

“It doesn’t take much, does it?” Batwoman said. “The Joker has _twenty pounds_. I thought you would want to know.”

Clark forced himself to look past the kryptonite to Batwoman, expecting to see malice, but he was surprised to find something akin to concern. It was almost parental.

Batwoman casually tossed the kryptonite into a glass on a nearby table. Clark’s eyes followed the shard. When he looked back, Batwoman had vanished.

As soon as he’d dealt with the kryptonite Superman headed home, exhausted and looking forward to bed. He arrived just as the phone started ringing and quickly changed out of his costume as he picked up the call. It was Lois, reminding Clark to meet up with her to write up the article on the interview they’d had with Rachel Wayne. Clark was tempted to ask her if she’d even thought to just email him instead of waking him at some ridiculous hour of the night, but he restrained himself.

“Well I’ll let you go so you can count sheep or whatever it is you Kansas boys do.” Lois joked. Clark forced himself to laugh and hung up as soon as he could, his eyes drifting over to his cape.

Attached to the fabric was a small black shape, the same stylized bat he’d seen on Gotham’s Bat Signal. Dropping the phone to the floor, Clark plucked the bug off his cape and walked to the window.

He saw her almost instantly. Several streets over, on top of a building the same height as his apartment.

Batwoman.

Clark crushed the tracking device as Batwoman lowered the binoculars that she was holding. She smirked and gave him a little wave, before turning and dropping off the side of the building.

_Perfect end to a perfect day._


	5. Stercus Accidit

_**Stercus Accidit = Latin for “Shit Happens”**_

At first Lois Lane had been looking forward to her next interview with Rachel Wayne. The interview that Clark had helped her with had turned out to be a remarkably straight forward one, completely different from any interview that anyone had ever managed to get from the Billionaire.

Of course most readers of the Daily Planet were expecting a fluffy piece on Gotham’s Princess. They didn’t exactly want a trashy tabloid interview, but they did want something similar… so Perry White had arranged for Lois to have dinner with Wayne.

So once again Lois found herself in a fabulously expensive restaurant, sitting across from Rachel and trying not to compare her (relatively) inexpensive dress to the Heiresses’ (no doubt) insanely expensive one.

It hadn’t taken long for Lois Lane’s good mood to evaporate. When the two woman had first sat down the Billionaire had been polite, even friendly, but as soon as Lois had asked her first real question (concerning the untimely death of her parents) Wayne’s cheerful attitude had vanished.

Lois had to resist the urge to grumble. She could tell that Wayne was doing that thing she did, where she seemed to be answering your questions but was actually creating some sort of elaborate joke… Lois knew that Wayne was doing it, but she didn’t know how to stop her!

It didn’t help Lois’ mood that Wayne kept looking past her, out at the Metropolis skyline. It was almost as if the Billionaire was searching for something. If Lois hadn’t known better she would have thought that Wayne was lost in her thoughts.

“Looking for Superman?” Lois teased, leaning forward as she reached for her drink.

Rachel actually looked startled for a few seconds before she elegantly shrugged. “No, the Bat-Signal.” She said, a soft smile on her face. “I forgot where I was for a second.”

“So you spend your nights thinking about vigilantes?” Lois asked, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

Rachel blinked, her eyes going almost comically wide as she tilted her head to one side. “I thought that Batwoman was a hero… I mean the Gotham Police do have the Bat-Signal.”

“She’s still a vigilante.” Lois shrugged. “I mean, she’s not even a member of the Justice League!”

“I thought the Justice League didn’t publish member lists,” Wayne said as she leaned forward. _She’s just a hero fangirl!_ Lois mentally groaned.

“Well, being rescued by Superman has its perks.” Lois replied.

“But really,” Rachel sighed, rolling her eyes, “What’s the difference between Batwoman and Superman? Well, other then their color schemes?”

“Superman doesn’t wear a mask!” Lois practically spat back at the Billionaire.

“But the Flash and Green Arrow do,” Rachel pointed out, somehow managing to stay calm while Lois was rapidly loosing her cool.

Before Lois could reply to Rachel’s comment, the doors of the restaurant burst open and a spray of machine gun fire had everyone falling to their knees. A group of men with guns rushed into the room, spreading out so that they could keep an eye on everyone in the restaurant.

The criminals were a ragtag group. Some looked like they were members of the Metropolis mob scene, some like homeless men who had been picked up off the streets… but all of the men had their faces covered, some with cheap plastic clown masks, others with pantyhose which had been painted to look like the clown masks.

After the group had burst into the restaurant and fanned out, the doors opened once more, revealing two figures, one male and one female. The man stalked into the room, the woman seeming to bounce even though she was holding on to the man’s arm like they were a bride and groom walking down the aisle of a church.

Even with her general lack of knowledge concerning Gotham City, Lois Lane knew who the man was. His hair was dyed green, his face painted to resemble the clown masks that his thugs were wearing… but what was the Joker, Gotham’s Clown Prince of Crime, doing in Metropolis?

The Joker looked around the room, his scarred lips curling up into a smirk. He had a sawed off shotgun in his right hand. The woman who was hanging off his left arm was small and thinly built, with messy blond hair. Like the Joker her face had been scarred, although her Glasgow smile was slightly smaller and a good deal neater then the Joker’s. Her face was also painted white, with a smear of dark red lipstick over the scars. However the black areas around her eyes had been shaped into diamonds. She was wearing a red turtleneck, with a black vest. One leg of her pants was red, the other black and she was wearing motorcycle boots. Several guns were strapped or otherwise attached in some way to her thin frame.

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen…” the Joker smirked as he stepped forward, the woman stepping back and catching the shotgun he threw at her. “Now, we only have one simple question…” he grabbed one of the waiters by their shirt, almost lifting the poor man off his feet. A knife appeared in the Joker’s hands and he pressed that knife to the waiter’s neck. “Where is Lois Lane?”

The waiter froze for the briefest of seconds and the Joker pressed the knife down, making a small sliver of red appear on the man’s skin. He whimpered and pointed at the corner where Rachel and Lois were kneeling on the ground next to their table. Lois didn’t think it was possible, but the Joker’s smile grew even wider as he dropped the waiter unceremoniously to the ground. His female companion followed closely behind him as the Joker walked over to the table.

He stopped just in front of the table, while the strange woman stepped in front of him, easily pulling off a spinning kick which sent the table flying away from the women, leaving the two exposed. The Joker smirked as he caught sight of Lois, but when his gaze shifted over to Rachel he actually seemed startled and his smile… changed. Lois didn’t know how to explain the change, the smile was just different.

“Rachel Wayne… fancy seeing you here!” The Joker smirked, kneeling down next to the Billionaire as the strange woman yanked Lois to her feet, pressing a gun against her side.

“Joker…” Rachel whispered.

Lois watched in shock as the Joker extended a hand to Rachel , which the Billionaire stared at for a moment. Rachel looked out of the corner of her eyes at the Joker’s henchmen and their guns before she took the Clown’s hand. The Joker yanked the Billionaire to her feet, although the action seemed strangely gentle and Lois could hear the Joker’s female companion growling softly at the criminal and the heiress. Although the Joker released Rachel’s hand he didn’t take a step back, leaving the two face to face.

“Don’t you realize that you’re hanging out with Superman’s main squeeze?” The Joker asked and Lois would swear that there was actual _concern_ in his voice as he spoke to Wayne. Rachel didn’t reply and the Joker sighed dramatically. He made a gesture to one of his henchmen, who stepped forward and placed a hand on Rachel’s shoulder and held a knife against her neck. The Joker stepped back and gave Rachel a sort of little bow before he moved towards Lois.

“So you’re Lois Lane…” the Joker smirked, leaning in so that his face was only a few inches away from Lois’s. Lois fought to keep her expression neutral, but it didn’t seem to work. The Joker smirked, clearly enjoying Lois’ unease and tilted his head to one side as he looked at the reporter, who couldn’t tear her gaze away from his scars. “Do you like my scars?” The Joker asked, licking his lips slowly. “Wanna know how I got them?”

The woman who was holding Lois cackled and swayed slightly, pulling Lois along with her. “I bet she would Mister J…”

“Now you see, my big brother fell in with…” the Joker cackled as he rocked back on his heels. “A rough crowd. He let me play with the big boys, but I got scared. So I call the cops, tell them where our little _gang_ would be and run home to mommy.” The knife was suddenly back in the Joker’s hands, and he was playing with it, absentmindedly tossing it back and forth.

“Now when the guys found out who ratted on them to the po-lice, they didn’t like it. _Not one bit_. So they give my brother a knife and tell him to take care of business… so he sticks the knife in my mouth and---” the Joker cut himself off with a sort of slicing noise as he dragged the knife through the air between him and Lois. “My own _brother…_ ” He hissed, bearing his teeth like a feral dog.

Lois Lane froze, staring at the Joker and his scars as she fought the urge to shiver. The Joker cackled as he turned back to Rachel. “Now my interest in Miss Lane here is _strictly_ business… but I must admit I’m _intrigued_ to see you here, _Miss Wayne_.” The Joker slowly walked forward, moving closer and closer to Rachel. “Who would have thought that I’d have to go to Metropolis to see Gotham’s Favorite Daughter?”

The henchman who had his knife at Rachel’s throat laughed and adjusted his grip, which caused his hand to wrap around Rachel Wayne’s waist as he pulled her back against him. Rachel hissed softly and her body tensed as she tried to move away from the crook. Before she could do anything the knife flew from the Joker’s hand and embedded itself in the henchman’s head. The man fell to the ground, dead, as Rachel’s eyes darted between the Joker and the dead crook.

The Joker reached out and wrapped his arm around Rachel’s waist, pulling her up against him. “I’m sorry about that Miss Wayne… it’s just impossible to find good help these days!” The Joker laughed and cupped Rachel’s face, running a gloved finger over her lips.

“Get away from me.” Rachel hissed, her voice just loud enough to be heard by Lois.

“That’s not very polite of you, Miss Wayne.” The Joker practically hissed. “Perhaps a bit of kidnapping will help you learn some manners---”

The Joker had probably planned to say more to the Princess of Gotham… but Rachel chose that moment to terrify Lois and pretty much everyone else in the restaurant, including the Joker’s henchmen, by kneeing the Clown Prince of Crime in the family jewels.

The Joker instantly released Rachel and stumbled backward as Rachel did the same, finding herself unable to keep her balance. Lois expected the Joker to either stab or shoot the Heiress, but for some reason he looked almost… well pleased at Wayne’s actions. He threw his head back and started laughing, his laughter quickly turning into a maniacal cackle.

Lois squeaked as she was passed off to one of the goons and the blonde woman stormed toward Rachel,. Drawing one of the many guns that were hanging off her and pointing it at Rachel, she sprays the ground in front of the young heiress with bullets. Rachel backed away from the bullets while the Joker got to his feet and lunged at his female henchman.

“HARLEY!” He bellowed as Rachel ran out of space, finding herself leaning on the balcony. “Harley” dropped her gun, but it was too late, Wayne had moved to doge the last of the bullets, which caused her to lose her balance and fall backwards, tumbling over the balcony… Lois was surprised to find herself the only person to scream.

The Joker growled and roughly smacked Harley across the face, before racing over to the balcony. Most of his goons followed him, including the one that was holding Lois. “I’m sorry Mister J!” Harley whimpered over and over again as she followed her boss to the balcony.

Lois Lane didn’t want to look over the balcony, but when Harley gasped Lois couldn’t stop herself.

Several stories below the restaurant’s balcony there was a small ledge, only a few inches wide. _Somehow_ Rachel had managed to grab hold of that tiny ledge. The move probably should have yanked Rachel’s arm out of its socket and probably hurt like hell… but it looked damn impressive.

Harley was still whimpering and begging “Mister J” to forgive her, while the Joker continued to stare down at Rachel, who looked up, her eyes wide and expression terrified. “Well now, aren’t we tenacious…” the Joker whispered, his expression practically fond as he turned back towards Harley and his men. “Never mind the Princess… Superman should come charging in to save the day soon enough!”

Far below the fleeing Crown Prince of Crime, Rachel Wayne fought to keep herself from screaming in pain. Grabbing on to the ledge had stopped her from falling to her death, but now her arms were burning with pain and she was quickly losing her grip.

Rachel risked a quick glance down and allowed herself the luxury of cursing in some of the more obscure languages she knew.

There was absolutely nothing for her to grab hold of. Not a ledge, not a window still, no decorative stonework or even a handy flag pole. There was absolutely nothing between her and the sidewalk.

Sure, Metropolis was clean when compared to Gotham, but at least in Gotham there was always something to grab on to!

Rachel could tell that the Joker and Harley Quinn were getting away, taking Lois Lane off to god knows where. She didn’t want to think about the implications of the Joker’s… actions towards her; however, she was reasonably sure that the Joker had never killed anyone for getting too close to Harley…

The Billionaire took one last desperate look around, hoping that she’d see something that she’d missed before… but once again she came up with nothing.

Her left arm decided that was a perfect moment to give out, leaving Rachel dangling by one arm. She could hear the police sirens, far away at first but slowly moving closer and closer. Her fingers slipped as her grip grew weaker.

Part of Rachel wanted to stall, to try and prevent the inevitable… but another part wanted to let go, to chose her own path, even if that choice was just a matter of taking several seconds off her life.

Before she could make any sort of concrete decision Rachel’s fingers slipped and her grip failed.

She screamed as she tumbled towards the earth, trying not to look at the windows that she was falling past, trying not to look down at the ground which was rushing up to meet her…

 

_Author’s Note: The Joker of this fic is pretty much the Joker of Dark Knight, but with a few of the comic/tv Jokers thrown in. This world’s Harley Quinn is based off of an amazing fanart that can found[here](http://kyla79.deviantart.com/art/The-Joker-and-Harley-TDK-96772411?q=boost%3Apopular%20Joker%20Harley&qo=17) and an equally amazing photo manipulation that can be found [here](http://fanartexhibit.files.wordpress.com/2008/11/hq_new.jpg)._

 


	6. Raptus Regaliter

  
  
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**Raptus Regaliter = Latin for “Royally Screwed”**   
_   


_Before she could make any sort of concrete decision Rachel’s fingers slipped and her grip failed._

 _She screamed as she tumbled towards the earth, trying not to look at the windows that she was falling past, trying not to look down at the ground which was rushing up to meet her…_

At first her mind doesn’t process what exactly has happened. Rachel Wayne only knows that she is being cradled in someone’s arms and that she can’t stop herself from shaking. Slowly she pulls herself together and becomes aware of what is happening around her… she is resting in Superman’s arms and the superhero is in the process of landing on the sidewalk that, if not for him would be covered in her blood.

“Are you okay?” Superman asked as he set Rachel down, making sure that she could support herself before he released her to stand on her own two feet.

“I’ve been better.” Rachel replied, annoyed that she couldn’t stop her voice (or her body) from shaking slightly.

Within seconds the Metropolis Police surrounded Rachel and Superman. Staying “in character” for the police was one of the hardest things that Rachel had ever done… she could feel the first throbs of a headache coming as the Officer started to talk about placing her in Police protection. Thankfully it didn’t take much for Rachel to convince the officers to allow her to leave.

When the police officers finally left her alone Rachel Wayne was surprised to find that Superman was still standing at her side. She slowly turned to face him, unconsciously adjusting her stance as she looked at the Superhero. “Why would the Joker come all the way to Metropolis just to kidnap someone?” She asked, her face a picture of innocence. “Why not just take someone from Gotham?”

“He wanted me to get involved.” Superman replied. Rachel blinked slowly, trying to figure out how anyone (herself included) had _ever_ been fooled by Clark Kent’s glasses. “He’s probably setting up some sort of trap.”

“Be careful.” Rachel whispered, not sure if she was asking a question or giving Superman a command… it was probably a bit of both.

“I will.” Superman smiled.

Rachel looked away, somewhat afraid of what the superhero might see in her eyes. “It’s just… things are never what they seem to be when it comes to the Joker.”

As Rachel said this a limo pulled up and Alfred stepped out, a coat in his arms. Rachel stepped towards the limo, managing not to stumble. As Alfred placed the coat over her shoulders Rachel turned back towards Clark Kent. “Thank you for saving my life.”

With that said she stepped into the limo, watching Superman out of the corner of her eye. For some reason the Man of Steel only took to the skies after Rachel’s limo started to drive away. Rachel sighed, running a hand through her hair and struggling _not_ to think about what Superman’s actions could mean… or what she wanted them to mean.

“Alfred, I’m going to need the jet.” Rachel sighed as she leaned back in her seat. “And turn on the feed from the Commissioner… the Joker should be using him to contact Superman soon.”

She couldn’t allow herself to think about Clark Kent right now, it wasn’t the right time… now it was time to think of the Mission.

Superman had planned on scanning the city for the Joker… but there was an earthquake in Japan and he had been too buy digging through the rubble for survivors to pay attention to gunshots in Metropolis. In fact, the Joker’s attack on the restaurant had gone unnoticed by the Last Son of Krypton. Clark was three states to the west when he’d realized that the sound of gunfire was coming from his city. He was two states away when he heard Lois scream and put on even more speed.

Superman arrived on the scene at the exact same second that Rachel Wayne’s grip failed. The scream that seemed to spill out of the Billionaire’s mouth sent a chill up Clark’s spine. He hadn’t even realized he was moving until Rachel was already in his arms.

Rachel Wayne probably wasn’t aware that she had clung to him the second he caught her, the young woman shivering in fear and (probably) pain. Even when she gained control of her reactions Clark could feel how truly terrified the Gothamite was… how shaken she had been by the experience.

Rachel Wayne wasn’t like him… she didn’t strip off her civilian identity to roam the streets and rooftops protecting people. Her life was lived within a system designed to protect her. The only terror that the Heiress had ever really known was the untimely death of her parents and now this… perhaps that was why Clark stayed at her side.

Sure, his senses were reaching out, trying to find the Joker and Lois, but physically Clark had remained at Rachel’s side. He listened as she spoke with the police officers and waited for her car to come. Clark was relieved when the driver of the car was Alfred Pennyworth and not Mercy or some nameless chauffeur… and he could tell that Rachel was also relieved to see the butler.

When Rachel Wayne thanked him fro saving her life Clark found himself dumbstruck. He’d expected to be thanked… but he’d also expected that thanks to be a shallow, superficial sort. He’d expected Rachel Wayne’s mask of “Brainless Billionaire” to remain firmly in place. Instead the mask had vanished, as if it had never existed in the first place.

Despite his apprehensions about Batwoman, despite Clark’s desire not to tell the Dark Knight how to run her city, Superman found himself wanting to tell Batwoman to keep a close watch over the Wayne Heiress… to keep her safe.

As soon as Rachel Wayne was inside her limo and Alfred started driving away Clark took off, making a quick tour of the city before he headed towards the Police Commissioner. Neither Superman nor the Police had any leads on the Joker… however it didn’t take very long for the Crown Prince of Crime to find them.

The Commissioner’s computer monitor flickered before it was covered in static. Superman turned towards the computer as the Joker’s face appeared. The shot was poorly framed and the camera shook as the Joker laughed manically at the look of terror on the Commissioner’s face.

“Move over Comish! I want to talk to the boy in blue!” The Joker growled, flashing his teeth like some sort of animal.

“I’m here Joker.” Superman replied, stepping in front of the Commissioner. He stared at the Clown Prince of Crime, who leered right back at him. “Where is Lois Lane?”

The Joker sighed, blowing a lock of hair out of his eyes. He looked almost disappointed, as if he had expected something more from Metropolis’ hero. “She’s right here _Superman_.” The Joker shifted to one side, allowing Superman and the Commissioner to see Lois. The reporter was bound, gagged and hanging from some sort of metal hook. Around her waist, over the ropes that bound her, was a large red bow. “She would just love to see you…”

Superman fought to keep himself from growling as the Joker’s face filled the screen once more. The man seemed to be fighting to keep himself from laughing as he steepled his fingers and leaned forward, his gaze sweeping over Superman once more.

“What to know where here is?” The Joker asked, leaning closer. “Don’t blink!”

The Joker’s voice dissolved into maniacal laughter as the screen turned a blinding white, forcing the Commissioner to look away. Superman shifted slightly as he continued to stare at the monitor, forcing himself to look past the blinding light. There was a map of Metropolis with two dots. One read “You Are Here” and was quite clearly the Commissioner’s Office. The map shifted to the east, until another dot was revealed, this one labeled with a J.

“Got the picture?” The Joker growled. “No cops now… or Lane dies laughing.”

The Joker’s maniacal laughter filled the room before the feed died. Superman didn’t wait to answer the Commissioner’s questions. As soon as the monitor turned black Clark was out the window and flying over his city… with Rachel Wayne’s words stuck in his head.

 _It’s just… things are never what they seem to be when it comes to the Joker._

If anyone else had said those words to Clark he probably wouldn’t have paid any attention. He was, after all, the Man of Steel… but for some reason Rachel Wayne’s words made him stop. It didn’t take too long to make a detour and pick up something that Ollie had made for him, but he’d yet to use-- a suit lined with led.

It was simple really. It wouldn’t matter how much kryptonite the Joker had with him, the lead in the suit would keep him safe and stop the Joker from using the kryptonite in his possession… but despite telling himself this he couldn’t get the Billionaire’s words out of his head.

 _…things are never what they seem to be when it comes to the Joker._

Clark found himself shaking his head in an attempt to get the words out of his head as he landed at the LexCorp Building that the Joker had labeled as the spot when he was keeping Lois. Deciding against the subtle approach, Superman flew straight and true, smashing through the walls of the complex until he was face to face with the Joker.

The madman was standing in a dimly lit warehouse, the only illumination coming from a single bare bulb above the two. He turned and smirked as he saw Superman, his eyes roaming over the suit. “More powerful then a locomotive!” He proclaimed, gesturing towards Superman with one hand. “…and just as subtle.” He added in a lower voice, a growl creeping in to his voice. “I am _flattered_ that you put on your Sunday best for little old _me_.”

“Where’s Lois?” Clark asked as he stared at the Joker, doing his best not to visibly react to the Gotham criminal.

“Forget about Lane, feast your eyes on this!” Joker smirked as he pulled what looked like half of a Jade Dragon from… somewhere. Clark wasn’t sure where he’d pulled it from, since the Clown Prince of Crime didn’t exactly have a box or anything that he could have keeping it in.

The Joker instantly shoved the dragon in Superman’s face. He could tell that the dragon was a solid chunk of kryptonite… but his suit was doing what it was supposed to do. He didn’t feel any weakness or ill effects from the green stone.

Clark fought the urge to smirk as he took a step towards the Joker. “I’ll ask you once more…” He let his voice trail off and the Joker gave a theatrical sigh and turned quickly on one foot.

The Joker sighed again as he lead Superman through the seemingly abandoned factory. They paused briefly as a door slowly slid open. Clark stepped in front of the Joker as he caught sight of Lois, who was still dangling from the hook with the red bow around her waist. She was struggling violently against her bindings, trying to speak around the gag in her mouth.

“I don’t understand!” The Joker protested. “I had it all planned out so perfectly… oh wait! That’s it!” The Joker dropped the Kryptonite dragon to the floor, causing Superman to stop and turn back towards the criminal from Gotham.

The Joker’s smile grew even larger as he leaned in closer to Superman. “Silly me…” The Joker ran his tongue over his lips, smearing his makeup even more. “I forgot the _acid_!”

Before Clark could react to the Joker’s words the Clown threw several little glass vials at him. The vials shattered against Superman’s chest, splashing him with acid which immediately started eating through his suit, easily dissolving it.

Clark could feel the effects of the kryptonite dragon almost instantly. He fought as hard as he could, but within seconds Superman found himself on his knees, groaning in pain. He could dimly hear Lois screaming as the Joker stepped forward, laughing hysterically.

The Joker pressed his hand against Superman’s back and electricity surged through the Krytonian’s body. He screamed and fell flat on his face, trying desperately to gather enough strength to fight back…

“Ahh, what’s the matter Supey?” The Joker cackled, kneeling down next to the fallen Superhero. “No steam left in the old locomotive?”

The Clown Prince of Crime laughed at his own joke as he kicked the Man of Steel, causing Superman to land on his side. The hero started to pick himself up but once again he fell flat on the floor… as a phone rang.

The Joker sighed before reaching into one of the pockets of his suit, pulling out a cell phone. “I hope you’re taking notes!” He shouted at Lois before flipping the phone open. “Not now Harley!”

Despite the pain that he was in, Clark could still hear what Harley Quinn was saying… “But pudding! The Bat is headed your way!”

The Joker smirked, snapping the phone closed and dropping it in a different pocket then he’d pulled it out of. He kicked Superman once more “Pardon my hasty exit, but we have a little pest control problem…” The Joker sneered as he turned and leisurely strolled towards the doors. “Feel free to expire anytime!”

With one final bout of echoing maniacal laughter the Joker turned the corner and was gone… leaving Clark on the floor and Lois struggling in vein against her bonds.


	7. Alis Volat Propiis

  
  
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**Alis Volat Propiis = Latin for “She flies with her own wings”**   
_   


It wasn’t exactly the easiest thing in the world, secretly transporting a plane from Gotham to Metropolis… let alone transporting one which was so clearly the Batwoman’s plane. It wasn’t the easiest thing in the world… but it also wasn’t _impossible_.

Money couldn’t buy happiness, Rachel Wayne knew that to be true. However money could grease hands, avert eyes and insure that people kept their mouths shut.

Rachel Wayne’s inner geek was currently jumping up and down like a five year old after Halloween. This was the first time she was flying the jet… of course after she’d acquired the plane about two months ago she’d taken it out, but that was just for testing. This was the first time she was really flying...

It was also the first time that she was able to really test the jet’s cloaking technology. The tech had been developed when Rachel Wayne had been officially missing, but it hadn’t preformed well enough to be pitched to the military. The higher ups at Wayne Enterprises had decided that the cloaking device was too expensive to continue working with and had dumped the project around the same time Lucius got sent down into the basement.

When Rachel had returned and started her new life as Gotham’s Dark Knight the cloaking technology was one of the things which Lucius had pulled out of storage. Official Wayne Enterprises were still finishing up development and ironing out the last wrinkles in the project… if anyone asked it was still in the early stages of final testing. Unofficially Batwoman was starting to think of ways to include the device in as many of her gadgets as possible. Due to it’s size and weight she’d only managed to add it to the Batplane (the name was Alfred’s idea), although she was thinking about including it into the new Tumbler.

Following Clark Kent was almost _too_ easy… Batwoman actually found herself hoping that the alien was only this easy to follow due to concern over Lois Lane. Any radar worth it’s weight could easily track the alien and he didn’t seem to be going all that fast (all things considered). The Batplane could probably have outrun Superman, at least at his present seed… it could be Clark’s human upbringing showing, or it could be (and she hoped it was) that Clark was actually listening to her words and being careful for once.

Batwoman sighed to herself as she maneuvered the plane so that she was flying a short distance behind Superman. Mostly she kept some distance between the two of them to prevent the alien from figuring out that he was being followed… but Rachel was also counting on the fact that the Man of Steel would spring whatever traps the Joker had set up.

She’d ended up fighting the Joker more times then she cared to count. Batwoman knew how the Joker would react when faced with the Dark Knight and she could (mostly) predict his actions… for example, when the Joker broke out of Arkham by sneaking out in the middle of the night it was usually two weeks before he committed a major crime. If he broke out using force then he’d commit a major crime within a few days.

The problem was Superman. Although Rachel had done as much research on the alien as was possible, she still had no idea how the Joker would react or how Kent would treat the madman. In this sort of situation the best plan would probably be to let Superman fly in and storm the castle. It would be best for Rachel to keep her distance, best, best to watch and learn instead of leaping in and getting herself killed.

In some ways Rachel was somewhat jealous of Clark Kent. He could afford to storm in. He may not fully know his limits, but his powers were great enough that he could do a lot of things that Batwoman could only dream of.

Rachel only waited a minute or two before she followed Superman into the factory. Opening the hatch of her plane she calmly stepped out of the plane and fell towards the earth, her cape spreading out behind her, slowing her fall. She passed through the hole in the roof that Clark had created, skillfully managing to make her landing almost entirely silent. She’d programmed the Batplane to circle the factory until she called for it… right now it was time for Batwoman to dance with the Joker once more.

It was easy enough to follow the path that Superman had taken through the Factory… the Joker had blocked off all but one route and the Man of Steel hadn’t attempted to break through any of the hastily constructed blockades. Soon Batwoman was descending down a flight of stairs… and being shot at by the Joker’s minions.

Apparently the rumors of the Joker being in need of cash were true… while there were a few of Joker’s minions from Gotham, the majority of the crooks weren’t wearing the Joker’s colors, which lead Batwoman to believe that they were local crooks. Both local and imported criminals were horrible shots. It was exceedingly easy to dodge the bullets… this could be due to the terror that Batwoman seemed to inspire in criminals, even criminals in a city that had an _alien_ flying through the sky and saving the day.

It was all to easy for Batwoman to make her way past the crooks. They didn’t try to follow her, which left the Dark Knight alone in a long hallway, with a single open door at the end. Past the open door Rachel could see Superman, lying on the ground of a large storeroom. Above and behind him Lois Lane was dangling from the ceiling, a large red bow tied around her waist and a gag in her mouth.

Superman was wearing what looked like rags, which Rachel guessed had once been a part of some form of protective suit… probably one which would have helped to protect Clark from the large chunk of Kryptonite that lay next to his head.

The Joker had most likely tossed acid on the suit and whomever had designed the suit for Superman clearly hadn’t thought about the possibility of acid being thrown on it. As Batwoman put on some speed, racing towards the chuck of Kryptonite which was causing Clark so much pain, she realized that as large as the green rock was, it was only about half the size of the Laughing Dragon. The Joker must have split the original rock in half, so he still had a good stock of Kryptonite somewhere.

The Dark Knight slid like a baseball player sliding into home and grabbed the kryptonite with both hands… fighting back a wince of sympathy as Clark moaned in pain. As soon as the green rock was in her hands she turned and headed back towards the doors, not bothering to speak with Lois Lane or Clark Kent as she ran as fast as possible, hoping to get the Kryptonite away from Superman. Rachel was fairly sure that if she got the meteorite far enough away from Clark then he’d be able to recover fairly quickly.

The doors to the room closed so suddenly that Batwoman only just managed to _not_ slam into them. She frowned and turned back, her eyes quickly scanning over the room, hoping that she’d missed something in her first inspection. Before she could start to plot an alternative method of escape and/or disposal of the Laughing Dragon, a small wall mounted television turned on and maniacal laughter spilled forth from the speakers.

Rachel calmly moved so that she could see the screen, and wasn’t surprised to find the Joker sitting in what looked like a security guard’s chair, with Harley Quinn sitting in his lap. The blond woman was doing her best to imitate “Mister J” and Batwoman had to fight to keep from smirking as she realized that the former psychologist was possessively clinging to “Mister J” and sending dark glares at Batwoman every now and then. _Jealous much Doctor Harleen Quinzel?_

The Joker’s head was thrown so far back by the force of his laughter that it almost looked like someone had broken it. “Two for the price of one!” The Joker practically growled, his head snapping up as he leaned forward to leer at the Dark Knight. “ _I love it._ And the best part… is that you’re all going out with a smile!”

As the Joker spoke Batwoman could hear a soft hissing sound. She winced slightly as she realized that the Joker was filling the room with his infamous “Joker Gas”.

“Have a happy---” Rachel cut off whatever Harley Quinn was going to say by flinging one of her batarangs at the TV screen and another one at the camera through which the pair had been observing their captives. Tuning out Lois’ whimpers as she realized she was going to die and Clark pain filled groans, Batwoman allowed her eyes to sweep over the room once more.

Along the sides of the large storeroom were tall shelving units which were filled with large plastic containers of various chemicals. The one which had caught Batwoman’s eyes were the jars of HCL… Hydrochloric acid. Rachel couldn’t stop herself from grinning in a (slightly) maniacal way as she grabbed the jar of HCL. Sometimes it was a good thing to be obsessive about knowing _everything_ that could possibly have _anything_ to do with crime fighting.

It wasn’t like Rachel Wayne had just passively analyzed a fragment of the Laughing Dragon in order to figure out what it was made of. Once she’d figured out that the Dragon was made out of pure kryptonite, the one substance which could damage and possibly destroy the Man of Steel… well Rachel had made sure that she knew how to destroy it.

Lois Lane watched in confusion as Batwoman dumped the entire jar of HCL over the half of the Laughing Dragon which the Joker had chucked at Clark. As the chunk of green meteorite began to quickly dissolve. _It’s a good thing the Joker chose to have this showdown in a chemical storage facility…_ Rachel mentally sighed. While she did have a small vial of HCL on her belt (Alfred like to joke that her belt held everything in the world) it wasn’t anywhere enough to dissolve anything as large as the Laughing Dragon.

The Kryptonite wasn’t entirely dissolved, but already Clark Kent was stumbling to his feet, one hand pressed to his forehead as he tried to stop his legs from shaking. Rachel wasn’t aware that she’d moved… one moment she was standing on her own, the next she was helping the Last Son of Krypton to stay upright.

“Snap out of it Kent!” Rachel hissed into Superman’s ear, forcing herself to sound harsher then she felt. “Or the Joker gets the last laugh!”

Clark seemed to shake ever so slightly. His eyes met Rachel and (as she blushed under her cowl) Superman raised his head and squared his shoulders. Rachel was thankful that she managed to contain a squeak of surprise as she was suddenly airborne, with Clark Kent’s right arm wrapped around her waist. Superman quickly grabbed hold of Lois Lane with his left arm, holding her against him as he flew towards one of the walls.

“Keep your heads down.” Clark told the two women, who were quick to follow his advice as he headed… neither one of them wanted to batter their brains against the wall Superman crashed through. Batwoman struggled not to flinch as Superman smashed through wall after wall, until the reporter and the two Heroes were standing in front of the Joker and Harley Quinn. _X-ray vision must come in handy._ Rachel guessed as she did her self to look menacing after being carried into the room by a man in blue tights.

“It’s over Joker!” Superman practically growled (Batwoman didn’t think the man could ever _really_ growl) as he took a step towards the Clown Prince of Crime and his former psychologist.

“I don’t think so Supey!” The Joker growled right back, retreating towards the doors to the room as Harley pulled her beloved machine gun and started to fire at Batwoman and Lois. Instantly Superman was in front of the two humans, making sure he blocked the bullets that were flying towards the women with his body.

Rachel was sure that the Joker didn’t have the other half of the Laughing Dragon. If he’d had the chunk of kryptonite on him he would have used it… but instead he reached into his pocket as he pulled Harley back towards the door. Clark advanced towards the pair, only to stop in confusion as the Joker dropped the bag he’d taken from his pocket… which was full of marbles.

“Is he joking?” Superman asked, turning slightly towards Batwoman… who had taken a step backwards and was carefully watching the marbles. Before Clark or Lois could ask, they saw why.

As the marbles rolled across the floor it took quite a while for one to hit another… and each time there was a near miss Batwoman stiffened ever so slightly. Then on marble ran into another and both marbles exploded, which triggered more marbles, causing them to explode. Batwoman stepped in front of Lois, one arm spreading out her coat so that it protected the reporter from flying shrapnel.

“Expect the unexpected.” Batwoman shrugged as she stepped through the hole in the wall that Superman had made, gently pushing Lois in front of her. Superman followed the two, quickly sweeping the two women up in his arms as the explosion grew bigger and bigger…

Clark put on a burst of speed, easily getting away from the huge blast that tore up more then half of the factory. Once he was sure that it was safe he set the two down in the factory’s parking lot… and was surprised by how quickly Batwoman extracted herself from his grasp and distanced herself form both him and Lois.

Lois Lane remained at Clark’s side, clinging to Superman’s arm as she stared in awe at Gotham’s Dark Knight. Of course she’d already “met” the superhero, but now Lois found herself trying to figure out how an ordinary human woman, with no powers or special abilities, had managed to defeat, over and over again, the madman who she had just seen bring the Last Son of Krypton to his knees.

Superman really, really wanted to dislike the Dark Knight. He wanted to be angry that she’d planed a tracking device on him, wanted to be angry that she’d managed to figure out his secret identity while keeping her own hidden… but all Clark Kent could feel was gratitude and he found himself actually _smiling_ at Gotham’s hero.

“Thank you…” Clark said, his voice dropping to a level just above a whisper. “I couldn’t have saved Lois without your help.”

“I’m aware of that.”

Lois probably thought that Batwoman’s response was a sneer, or some sort of snub of Metropolis’ superhero… but Superman was sure that Batwoman had a very faint smile on her face, which turned the remark (in his mind) into some sort of dry humor.

Batwoman nodded solemnly to Superman and turned away from him, her hand reaching into a pocket on her belt. Lois and Clark watched as Batwoman produced what looked like her grappling hook and, without speaking or pausing, shot it up into the night sky.

For a second both Superman and Lois were confused… there wasn’t any sort of building or even a tree for the hook to grab on to. But then Superman heard a soft noise, no louder then a bird flapping it’s wings. There was an equally soft noise of metal hitting metal… and then both Lois and Superman saw the black jet that was flying rather low over the little group. Superman could see that the grappling hook’s line had been snagged over the wing.

The jet, with grappling hook looped over it’s wing, flew off, lifting Batwoman into the air and carrying her away. Superman watched as the Dark Knight allowed the jet to carry her, her cloak trailing out behind her like a pair of black wings.

“Rachel!” Lois squeaked, distracting Superman from his bat watching as she griped his arm. “Rachel Wayne was with me when the Joker…” Lois trailed off, clearly concerned for the other woman. “Is she alright?”

Superman shifted uncomfortably, remembering how strange his reactions to the Gotham Billionaire were. “She’s fine…” he replied with a sigh, shifting Lois’ weight as he took off into the sky, his eyes drifting over towards the direction where he’d last seen Batwoman. “Just fine…”


	8. Hora Somni

  
  
_  
**Hora Somni = Latin for “at the hour of sleep”**   
_   


Rachel Wayne allowed herself to be practically swallowed by the armchair that Alfred had thoughtfully moved next to the storage compartment for the Batsuit. She sighed and pulled her cowl off with one hand, using the other to undo her ponytail. As always her hair was slightly damp from it’s time inside the cowl.

Rachel ran a hand through her hair, sighing softly as she thought about the events she’d just been through… Although she had come to Metropolis expecting to run into Superman, she hadn’t expected to figure out Superman’s secret identity. She hadn’t expected to keep running into him, both as Superman and as Clark Kent… in short she hadn’t expected things to be this _hard_.

Well, in a way it wasn’t too hard. The Joker was working for someone, someone he’d thought would pay him to get rid of Superman. There were a couple people who would be willing to hand over a rather large amount of money if it meant the Man Of Steel was no more… but only one person owned the factory where the Clown Prince of Crime had held Lois Lane and tried to kill Superman… the very same man who was currently stepping up his attempts to get Rachel Wayne to fall in love with him, or at least fall in love with his money and social connections.

As Rachel started to figure out how Lex Luthor fit in to the puzzle, she could hear Alfred entering the room. Reluctantly she opened her eyes and forced herself out of her thoughts for long enough to show her oldest friend that she was fine, that tonight was one of the rare times when she wasn’t broken and/or bleeding. Although Alfred remained silent, Rachel could feel his relief that he didn’t have to sew up his employer’s wounds… at least not tonight.

Stretching, Rachel pulled herself out of the armchair and moved towards the folding screen Alfred had set up, where a chair held a small pile of clothing. Without being entirely conscious of her actions, Rachel removed her Batsuit, easily disabling the various security measures that, if touched in the wrong order or with the wrong amount of force, would hit her with an extremely high electric shock… at first she’d only had the electric shock on her mask, but after her first brush with the Joker she’d increased the security measure to cover all of the suit.

Soon Rachel found herself standing in a pair of black sweat pants and a lose gray wife beater. The overhead lights in the room were off and Alfred had made himself scarce, so Rachel was alone in the moonlight, cleaning her suit before putting it away. After making sure that her equipment was all in it’s proper place and ready to be put on and used with a moment’s notice, Rachel made her way towards her bed.

As Rachel Wayne lay down on sheets that probably cost as much as a nice house for a family of three her mind was still active, the wheel were still spinning. Even though she was still going over and analyzing the events she’d just experienced, Batwoman hadn’t allowed her mental wanderings to approach the most important thing…

Clark Kent.

Superman.

It didn’t matter which name the alien went by, the fact remained that (unintentionally) both Rachel Wayne and Batwoman had attracted the man’s attention… and while she didn’t actually know how smart the alien was, she knew that he wasn’t stupid.

Rachel was a good actress. She was good at playing her part. The finely crafted mask of Rachel Antonietta Wayne, the air-headed billionaire, Princess of Gotham was good… but it wasn’t perfect. Now that Clark had met both Rachel and Batwoman the risk that the alien would discover the person behind the mask was… unacceptably high.

“And you still want to know more about him!” Rachel growled at herself as she pulled the blankets up around her. _Haven’t you learned your lesson already?!?”_

Her eyes closed and, almost instantly, she was asleep, allowing her mind to rest for the night, to prepare for the next day. She didn’t have much time, she despertly needed sleep… and as she fell into the land of dreams the last Wayne despertly hoped that tonight she wouldn’t remember her dreams.

 _It hadn’t taken long for her body to get used to the cold… it wasn’t even that bad, when you were inside the Monastery. Often, around mealtimes, Rachel found herself closing her eyes and imagining that she was somewhere else… somewhere that wasn’t at the top of a mountain in the middle of nowhere in China._

 _Outside was another matter. The mountain was harsh and unforgiving. The wind battered at you, no matter how many layers you wore it got tore through and grated against your bones. She would have said that she hated the cold… but it was hard for her to feel much of anything anymore --- well anything but the thirst for some sort of justice, some from of revenge._

 _She’d grown accustomed to that deep thirst… after all, it had been eating away at her ever since she was eight years old. It had consumed her, raised her, guided her actions until she’d found herself carrying a gun into the Gotham City Courthouse._

 _Her years of traveling, years of living among the lowest members of society had both destroyed and strengthened that thirst… and now Henri Ducard was helping her to forge that thirst into the deadliest of weapons._

 _Today she had been outside, on the frozen lake, practicing with swords. The ice was still broken in several places from several days ago, when Rachel had sacrificed her footing to win, only to end up falling through the ice._

 _But unlike that time there was no camp on the shore, no firewood waiting. Unlike the last practice Henri wasn’t seeking to anger Rachel, he wasn’t speaking of her father’s failures, wasn’t leading her into a trap._

 _It had just been a normal practice, a normal fight… it shouldn’t have been anything worth remembering._

In her sleep Rachel Wayne shifted slightly, her face twisting, her expression unreadable. One hand fisted the sheets which cocooned her, the other came to rest just above her stomach.

 _It wasn’t a real fight, not like last time. Now Henri was teaching, not assessing skill and weakness. Occasionally one or both of them would come close to a thin patch of ice, but both teacher and student managed to avoid falling in._

 _The sun was setting and a storm was rolling in when Henri decided they were finished for the day. Despite the stinging bite of the wind and the snow which had started to fall, Rachel bowed low to her teacher before she gathered their supplies and followed him back to the Monastery._

 _The Englishman and the American Girl arrived just as the other students and their masters were sitting down for the evening meal. On that night Ra’s Al Ghul wasn’t present, so his seat at the head of the table was unoccupied. As he always did, Henri sat to what would have been Ra’s Al Ghul’s right… although it had never been explicitly stated, Rachel knew that Henri was Ra’s Al Ghul’s right hand man._

 _On her first day she’d been instructed to sit at Henri’s right and she’d done the same at every meal since then. As soon as the two sat down they were drawn into a conversation with another of the Masters._

 _They’re weren’t many women in the Monastery. The League didn’t discriminate, they would and did accept anyone with the desire and will to learn… they just didn’t happen to acquire that many female members. There were two female Masters, one Caucasian, the other Korean. Among the students there was one woman whom Rachel believed was Russian, an extremely young African-American and a handful of Asian women… and among those women there was one who went by the name of Chao-xing._

 _At that time Rachel hadn’t really paid attention to the other women in the League of Shadows. She hadn’t paid any real attention to the social lives of the students and their Masters. She was at the Monastery to learn, to find a way to right what had been made wrong in that dingy alley all those years ago._

 _Despite not paying attention to the social life of the League, Rachel knew that she wasn’t treated like the other students. She had never slept in the dormitory with the other new students. She had never had to fight older students to prove herself, never had to fight for the right to apprentice herself to a Master…_

 _From the moment that he’d entered her cell in the prison, Rachel Wayne had been Henri Ducard’s student… his only student._

 _Henri was joking with the other Masters as he ate, smiling while leaning forward to impart something to one of the female Master, who laughed at whatever he’d said. The Students who were working that dinner shift moved silently along the sides of the table, serving students and Masters as they walked along._

 _On that night Chao-xing had been in charge of serving the Masters at the head of the table. She nodded in respect to each Master as she filled their bowls. Rachel was turned away, speaking to one of the Masters and when she turned back Chao-xing had filled her bowl and was returning to her seat, which was near the middle of the table._

 _Rachel found herself laughing along with Henri and the other Masters as she picked up her bowl and started to eat. She paused to push her hair, which had fallen out of it’s ponytail, out of her face and smiled as Henri praised a particular parry that Rachel had used that day._

 _Rachel had eaten roughly half of her bowl when she felt that something was wrong. It was almost like she could feel the Earth turning beneath her, as her vision dimmed. Her bowl fell from her hands as Rachel started to dry heave._

 _She could feel Henri’s hand on her shoulder and could dimly hear him questioning her… but then she was falling backward, her eyes rolling back into her head._

 _She was unconscious before she hit the floor._

Rachel Wayne woke drenched in a cold sweat, a scream spilling past her lips. For a moment she could still feel Henri Ducard’s hand on her shoulder and her necklace seems like a ball and chain around her neck. She shivered uncontrollably, running her hands over her shoulders, trying to get rid of the ghostly sensation as she heard Alfred approach with breakfast.

“Bats are nocturnal…” Rachel muttered as she pulled herself up into a sitting position, attempting to smile at her Butler.

If Alfred saw the tears drying on Rachel’s face he didn’t comment on them, choosing instead to pour her a large cup of extra strong coffee and started going over Rachel’s schedule for that day.  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Clark Kent was sitting in his apartment, watching as Lex Luthor made a televised announcement that the explosion at his factory was not nuclear and “posed no treat to the local populace.” Clark was glad that the Joker’s attack hadn’t had any lasting effects.. Other then the destruction of a LexCorp factory.

Clark already knew that Lex Luthor had something to do with the Joker’s abduction of Lois Lane and the Joker’s sudden desire to kill him. The Joker may be good at breaking into places, but Lex’s security was second to none… well except perhaps Wayne Enterprises.

No matter what he actually knew, Lex Luthor was on the television, playing the role of the innocent man, calling for the Joker’s swift apprehension and return to Arkham Asylum.

Clark sighed as he turned off the television, not wanting to get any angrier then he already was. His hands instantly went to fix his tie as he stood up and grabbed his notebook and pen. He’d already decided to swing by Lois’ apartment on his way to the Daily Planet. That way Lois would tell him all about how Superman had swooped in and saved her… and then Clark could offer to help Lois investigate Lex Luthor’s involvement in the whole thing.

Lois wasn’t surprised to see him. She probably explained it to herself using the excuse that Clark had seen her on the news and gotten both worried and interested in Superman’s actions, as he always was. Besides, Clark came to her apartment often enough, both before and after work, Superman or no Superman. Lois smiled in greeting, opening the door and stepping back so that Clark could enter.

As soon as Clark entered the apartment he noticed that he and Lois were not alone… sitting on Lois’ sofa was Rachel Wayne.

The surprise that Clark was feeling must have shown on his face, because Rahcel looked him right in the eye… and then smiled and laughed. Lois hurried over to explain that Rachel had been concerned about her and had come over to insure that Lois hadn’t suffered too much during her time with the Joker.

This lead to Lois telling both Rachel and Clark her version of what had happened… while she told her story Clark made the required sympathetic noises, while Rachel just nodded slowly, as if she was in deep thought.

“I have some experience with the Joker…” Rachel mused as she leaned back on the sofa, looking over at Lois and Clark.

“Experience?” Clark blinked, thinking back on everything he knew about the Joker’s actions in Gotham… although there had been several close shaves, Gotham’s Princess had never (before yesterday) encountered the Clown Prince of Crime.

“Yesterday was my first real encounter with him. However a…” Rachel seemed to be struggling to find the right word. She glanced at Clark for the briefest of moments before she spoke. “Well a _friend_ told me that he appears to have an obsession with me… anyway, I don‘t know why he’d be in Metropolis.”

Clark blinked at the emphasis that the Gothamite had put on the word “friend”… he didn’t think that one word could ever have sounded so serious. _She can’t mean…_ Clark’s eyes roamed over Rachel Wayne, looking at the Billionaire in a new light. _Ollie thought that Batwoman had money… but what if she just has an employer?_

Rachel Wayne had lost her parents to Gotham’s dark underbelly… it wasn’t too much of a stretch to imagine the wealthy young woman wanting to do more then donate money to charities. Rachel Wayne had the resources, not only to find another young woman who had suffered, but to train her… to train her to become Batwoman.

“I think… I think I know why the Joker is after Superman.” Clark told the two women. _Maybe Rachel can pass this on to Batwoman… or if I’m wrong she’ll know to be careful around Luthor._ “I think the Joker is in cahoots with Lex Luthor. I can’t prove it yet… but LexCorp has some of the best security in the world. I don’t think that the Joker would have been able to just slip into a LexCorp Factory.”

Rachel smirked, leaning forward almost playfully. “I suppose I could just… ask him.” She smiled, gathering her coat and elegantly standing up and heading towards the door. “I’ll leave you two journalists to your work… write nice things about me Lois!” She practically yelled over her shoulder as she left Lois’ apartment.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Batwoman was surprised at how simple Lex Luthor’s security was. Sure, there were cameras and guards on patrol… but in the end all she had to do was crash through the large glass window and into Lex Luthor’s bedroom.

Instantly Lex was awake and sitting up in bed, staring out into the darkness of his room at the shattered window. “What?” He half whispered to himself. “Who?” He yelled as he started to stand up…

Before Lex could pull himself out of bed Batwoman stood and calmly stalked over until she was leaning over Luthor’s bed, glaring at him through her mask. She had to refrain from smirking as she noticed that Lex was trying (and failing) to pretend that he wasn’t intimidated by her.

“What do you want!” Lex attempted to growl, although it came out sounding more like a coughing kitten.

“Information,” Batwoman replied, her cloak closing around her as Lex glared daggers at her. “… regarding a mutual acquaintance.”

“What are you talking about?” Lex protested weakly. Rachel could hear footsteps behind her, although their owner was trying to be silent. She pretended not to notice. “I don’t know any---”

Lex grinned ever so slightly as Mercy laid her hand on Batwoman’s shoulder. Without taking her eyes off of Lex, Rachel easily grabbed the woman’s arm and flipped her over so that the bodyguard was lying on her ass.

“You know _exactly_ who I am talking about… _where is he_?” Rachel growled. “What kind of a deal have you made with him?”

“I…” Lex stammered, before he was interrupted by someone pounding on the locked bedroom door.

“Mister Luthor?!?” Someone yelled, most likely one of the guards that Batwoman had managed to slip past.

Lex grinned as his guards started to pound on the door in earnest, before they started talking about breaking it down. Batwoman resisted the urge to curse under her breath as she was forced to leave.

“Think about it,” Rachel growled. “I’ll be back.”

Then she was gone, throwing herself out the window and, with an easy extension of her cape she was gliding away to safety, heading back to Alfred via a long an convoluted route… just in case anyone was trying to follow her.


	9. Vita Luna

  
  
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**Vita Luna = Latin for “Crazy Life”**   
_   


Clark and Lois were in the newsroom of the Daily Planet. It was just late enough in the evening that the large open room with hundreds of desks, huge windows and an amazing view of downtown Metropolis was empty… except for the two of them. The two reporters had just finished ironing out the last few wrinkles in an article for tomorrow’s paper, which was now being printed on the presses deep within the building.

Clark was sitting at his desk, which Lois was currently perched on top of. The two were discussing the Gotham Gazette. Apparently Rachel had made some sort of passing remark to Lois about the paper’s declining quality… which had lead to Lois joking that Clark should send out an application, after all, the Gazette always seemed to need reporters.

Clark was starting to grow tired of Lois’ ‘good natured’ joking. Just as he was about to invent a reason to leave one of the editors stumbled into the room, waving around a few sheets of paper and looking extremely excited… apparently a cruise ship called the SS Atlantis was two hundred miles offshore and sending out a distress call. Lois rushed over to her desk, picking up the phone and starting to type an article before she’d fully sat down. Clark, meanwhile, slipped out a side door, quickly changing and taking off in the direction of the cruise ship.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Rachel had returned from threatening Lex Luthor and found herself confronted with her most feared enemy of all… paperwork. Mountains of paperwork. The public believed that Rachel Wayne was nothing more then a pretty face for the public side of Wayne Enterprises. The only person (besides Alfred) who had any idea of the real amount of work Rachel Wayne did was Lucius Fox. He knew how deeply Rachel wanted to be involved in the company that her family had built, the company that allowed her to continue their legacy of helping the needy and poor of Gotham City and the world.

Because of this almost everything that went past Lucius’ desk (and he was lot more hands on then the majority of CEOs) also went past Rachel Wayne. Rachel appreciated everything that Lucius did for her, but sometimes, especially when the piles of paper started being roughly as tall as she was, she started to wonder if the man was plotting with Alfred…. Her oldest friend always did seem a little _too_ interested in getting her to enjoy her fake public life, though any means he could.

At the moment the stacks of paperwork were roughly as high as Rachel’s knees… or they would have been if they were on the floor and not on top of her desk. Despite this Rachel wasn’t about to complain… not after last night. She really, really, didn’t want to go to bed right now… not after the memories that had caused her to weak up screaming.

The worst thing wasn’t the memories, not really. She’d relieved them often enough… no, what got to Rachel was the _pattern_. Rachel could go for days, weeks, even months without thinking about her past… but once she started dreaming about her memories those dreams _wouldn’t stop_. Not until she was forced to relive the moment when everything had slipped through her fingers, both metaphorically and literally.

Rachel blinked and looked down, realizing that she was fiddling with her necklace. Quickly she pulled her hand away and shook herself slightly… she wasn’t going to sleep yet. After all, there was always the chance that if she worked herself to the point of exhaustion she’d be able to sleep without her memories coming back… and if she was working on something for Wayne Enterprises then Alfred wouldn’t start bugging her about her lack of sleep for at least another two hours, more if she was lucky.

Rachel Wayne wasn’t sure what made her put down her pen and look out the windows which took up nearly the entire wall of the lavish hotel suite that she was staying in. Perhaps she just needed to rest her eyes after all the reading she’d been doing, perhaps it was the mythical “Bat-Sense” that Alfred always joked that she possessed. But whatever the real reason, the fact remained that Rachel looked out the window…. And blinked to make sure that she wasn’t seeing things.

Batwoman had expected the Joker to up the ante… but she hadn’t expected the Joker to be so… flamboyant. Even for the Clown Prince of Crime a blimp (…or was it a zeppelin? Rachel could never remember the difference between the two…) which was bright purple with flashing lights worthy of a Las Vegas casino and a giant screen proclaiming “Laugh Night At Hob’s Bay!!” was a little… well much.

Rachel quickly finished with the last paper she’d been reading, placing it on the finished stack and leaving the room. She could return to her… well not her _official_ job, but her un-official official job after she’d dealt with the Joker.

<>Great… if Alfred could hear my thoughts he’d probably resort to drastic measures to get me to sleep instead of putting on black tights and fighting crime…

The Billionaire wasn’t surprised to find that Alfred already had her suit prepared and her various gadgets laid out. “Change of attire Miss Wayne?” He asked, the slightest of smirks on his face.

Rachel resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she slipped into the suit. By the time she was suited up and read to head out, Alfred had opened one of the windows for her and was standing stoically to one side… or at least he was trying to be stoic. Rachel would have considered herself a horrible detective if she hadn’t been able to see the concern that Alfred felt every time he watched her leave for the night… and the joy he felt when she returned.

Rachel silently nodded goodbye to Alfred and shot off her grappling hook, quickly leaving the hotel and making her way to Metropolis, towards Hob’s Bay and the Joker.

Hob’s Bay was one of the more underdeveloped areas of Metropolis. The streets were mostly empty at this time of night, since the shipping companies whose offices and docks filled this section of town usually closed around the same time that the sun went down. One or two warehouses still showed some signs of activity, but at this time of night the only _real_ activity was around the rowdy bars, the exceptionally low rent housing and the hotels… the ones which rented their rooms by the hour.

It didn’t take long for Rachel to reach Hob’s Bay, even though she was only using her grappling hook… she had been able to get away with using the jet in order to get from Metropolis to Luthor’s factories… but using it in the city or using the Batpod or the new Tumbler would just get the police chasing after and getting themselves in trouble.

It took even less time to find the Joker. He was standing on what appeared to be a mostly abandoned pier, his face turned towards the rooftops as he waited for her to appear. Batwoman was pleased when she managed to surprise the Joker, landing almost silently in front of him. As always the Joker managed to hide his surprise, covering it with his own twisted form of humor.

“Suffering from propulsion envy Batgirl?” Joker smirked as he offered Batwoman a sarcastic little bow.

Batwoman remained silent, choosing to glare at the Joker, who just smirked back at her… and then something landed behind her. Quickly Batwoman turned around, pushing herself back so that she could see both the mystery thing and the Joker… and Batwoman realized that she was trapped between the Clown Prince of Crime and the WayneLex T7. _Shit…_ Rachel mentally cursed, not allowing any emotion to reach her face, or at least the parts of her face that the cowl didn’t cover.

“Think of this as the welcome wagon _Bats_ ,” the Joker cackled as the robot started to advance towards her. “Welcoming you to the nearest mortuary!”

The Joker’s speech dissolved into his infamous laughter as the WayneLex T7 attacked. Already Rachel was moving, dodging lasers and the various projectile that Lex had armed their creation with. Fighting back disgust with Luthor, Rachel launched several batarangs at the robot, only to have the projectiles bounce harmlessly off it’s metal body. The only advantages that Rachel had was that she was slightly faster in her reactions, her doges were ever so slightly faster then the robot’s adjustments… but both Batwoman and the Joker knew that she couldn’t hold the advantage for long.

The first chance Rachel saw, she took. She put on a quick burst of speed and launched her grappling hook… and didn’t look back. She could tell that the robot wasn’t far behind her. With an elegant flip Batwoman landed on top of a passing bus and turned to look at the WayneLex T7. She hoped that by getting a ride she could “outrun” the bot… but it seemed that the weapons weren’t the only modification that Lex had added to their project.

The Wayne Lex T7 opened a hatch on it’s “belly” and caterpillar tracks descended. The robot pulled up it’s legs and it’s speed effectively doubled, allowing it to easily keep up with the bus Rachel was perched on top of… however it’s steering at theat speed was horrible.

Soon Batwoman had no choice but to take to the skies once more. Not too far away she could see the Daily Planet’s headquarters… but the noise of the robot’s attempt to kill her should have caused the Man of Steel to come running. That meant that he was somewhere… most likely dealing with another one of the Joker’s little toys.

Before Rachel could come up with a better destination the robot had caught up with the bus and was starting to shoot at her. Batwoman had no choice but to react, to move.

Batwoman threw out a grappling hook, leaving the top of the bus, narrowly avoiding getting hit by the WayneLex T7’s laser. The last minute dodge while launching her grappling hook meant that Rachel’s “take off” wasn’t exactly perfect… which meant that she didn’t go where she’d wanted to.

Luckily this seemed to throw off the robot’s aim. So instead of slicing Batwoman in half (even _her_ armor couldn’t stop everything) the laser sliced through the windows of the Daily Planet, which stopped Batwoman from slamming into those windows… and she managed to roll when she hit the floor of the newspaper’s headquarters.

Rachel quickly recovered, getting back on her feet and scanning the room… and she somehow wasn’t surprised to see Lois Lane standing behind one of the many desks, a look of extreme confusion on her face.

“Le me guess… you’re the only person here.” Rachel sighed as the reporter nodded meekly.

Another laser beam shot past Batwoman’s shoulder as the Dark Knight darted forward, easily picking up Lane and running towards the stairs. A comical squeak escaped Lois’ mouth as Batwoman deposited her inside the stairwell. Rachel quickly closed the door behind the two of them as tightly as possible and used one of her grappling hooks to tie the door closed, hoping that it would at least slow down the robot.

“Is there something that I should know?” Lois asked, only to bite back a scream as the robot started to throw itself against the door. It managed to force enough of an opening to get one of it’s pointy legs through the door… and the tip of the leg ended up a hair’s breath away from Batwoman’s face.

Rachel didn’t answer Lois’ question, choosing instead to shoot off her grappling hook and wrap an arm around the other woman’s waist. With the grappling hook attached above them it was simple enough to use the strong wire to swing around and around, going down the stairs in less time then it would have taken to run down. This meant that she’d managed to get a good amount of distance between them and the deadly machine… it wasn’t enough space to allow the two women to escape, but it was enough space for Batwoman to work with.

“Where’s Superman?” She asked Lois as they swung around and aground.

“He’s out at sea!” Lois replied, her voice trembling.

“Never around when you need him…” Rachel grumbled as she landed outside a large pair of doors. She got Lois to release her death grip and opened the doors, revealing the printing presses of the Daily Planet… presses which were already had at work on tomorrow’s morning edition.

Batwoman quickly pushed Lois into a dark corner, where she would be hidden by the shadows. “Stay hidden, I’m the one it’s after.” Rachel ordered, happy to see the reporter nod before somehow managing to push herself even further into the shadows.

Batwoman also melted into the shadows, easily using the darkness of the room to her advantage. When the WayneLex T7 entered the room Batwoman managed to remain hidden. As the robot slowly scanned the room for it’s prey, Rachel crept closer and closer, silently pulling her bola from one of the many pockets on her utility belt.

Before the robot could react to the sound of her spinning the exotic weapon Rachel had released the bola, which slammed into the Wayne Lex T7’s head, wrapping all the way around before it exploded. While the bola didn’t stop the robot, they did manage to destroy it’s laser eye.

Now the robot couldn’t shoot Batwoman with lasers… but it could still skewer her with it’s sharp legs and arms. Rachel only just managed to escape getting one of those legs through her shoulder, it’s point left a deep scratch on her armor. She was willing to be that, if they actually did hit her, the legs would cut right through her armor.

The WayneLex T7 was slowly pushing Batwoman back, expertly cutting off any escape routes that the Dark Knight could hope to take advantage of… one of the legs trust itself at Rachel, and she managed to deflect the blow away from her body. Batwoman knew that she couldn’t win a straight on fight with the robot, it was simply too strong.

Again the robot pushed her back, but this time there was nowhere for her to go. To avoid another blow Rachel took a single step back… which put her within reach of one of the printing presses. Her cape was pulled in almost instantly, and Batwoman was yanked back, pulled with tremendous force towards the powerful machine. While her cape wasn’t connected in any way that could cause her to choke (she’d made sure of that when designing the outfit) it was firmly attached to her suit. It had to be, in order for Batwoman to glide using the black cloth. The problem was that Batwoman couldn’t manually detach the cape because of the robot that was still trying to run her through.

So while the WayneLex T7 continued to try and skewer her with it’s remaining limbs (it seemed that the bola had managed to take down some limbs along with the laser eye) Rachel Wayne found herself getting pulled closer and closer to the printing press… closer and closer to getting crushed to death by the powerful machine.

Batwoman could swear that she could feel the printing press brushing against her cowl… when suddenly the WayneLex T7 was knocked away from her. She could hear Lois gasp as Superman appeared, squashing the robot beneath his feet before he reached out and pulled her cape from the printing press.

Rachel stumbled forward, the shock of almost getting crushed to death making her legs weak. The Man of Steel helped to steady the Dark Knight, before moving to make sure that the robot wasn’t going to get back up. Lois Lane emerged from her hiding place, looking between Superman, Batwoman and the crushed robot.

“Did I miss anything?” Superman asked, smiling at the two women, clearly hoping to break the uncomfortable silence.

“Proof that the Joker is working with Lex Luthor.” Rachel replied, doing her best to keep her expression neutral. “That,” she gestured towards the crushed robot, “is the WayneLex T7, a robot designed for unmanned space exploration. Luthor wanted to apply the technology a little closer to home.”

“But how do you know that the Joker’s involved?” Lois asked the Dark Knight.

“Because he set this thing on me.” Batwoman replied, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. Without saying anything more she turned away from the two, heading back towards the stairs and up, towards the window she’d crashed through not too long ago.

Behind her she could hear Superman telling Lois that he’d take her home… by the time that Rachel had reached the room the Last Son of Krypton was waiting for her. The wind from the broken window making his cape move slowly around him.

“I’m not used to being rescued,” Batwoman whispered as she stopped in front of the alien. “Thanks.”

“The cops are on their way,” Clark muttered, looking very uncomfortable around the Dark Knight.

“Then Luthor is official connected.” Batwoman replied. “I assume the Police had asked you to provide back up.”

“That’s why I came back… I figured that you might want to help me bring Luthor in.”

“A partnership?” Batwoman blinked, before she made a very obvious inspection of Superman. “You’re joking.” She all but hissed, although her tone was slightly playful.

“Actually I’m having trouble finding Luthor…” Superman explained. “I’m betting that you have some ideas.”

“I just might…” Batwoman allowed herself to smirk… and in response a smile grew on Clark’s face.

Rachel Wayne pressed a button on her belt and walked through the broken glass, until she was standing where the window had once been, staring down at the street far below her.

“I can give you a lift…” Clark offered, stepping forward.

“I’ll fly with my own wings.” Batwoman replied, her gaze lifting to the night sky. “Just try to keep up.”

“What?” Clark asked, blinking in confusion.

Batwoman didn’t answer, she just casually extended her arm and fired off her grappling hook… and then she calmly stepped off the building and into the air. Clark moved forward to catch the falling woman… only to find that Batwoman wasn’t falling. She was being pulled up and away by her grappling hook, which was looped over the wing of her plane.

Clark Kent couldn’t stop himself from laughing as he flew off after the crazy human woman. As he flew off after her he watched as her grappling hook pulled her closer to the jet... when she was right beneath the jet’s wing she grabbed on to a hand hold that Superman hadn’t noticed and gave her grappling hook a little shake, causing it to unwrap from around the wing. After shoving the device into a pocket in her belt she used several other hand and foot holds to climb into the cockpit of the jet, which closed around her as she took control.

With Batwoman in her jet and Superman flying right alongside her, it didn’t take long for the two heroes to arrive at one of the more secluded of LexCorps research factories. As Batwoman’s jet landed behind him Superman stepped up to a large locked door, his eyes sweeping over the metal.

“See anything?” Batwoman asked, appearing silently at Clark’s side.

“Luthor’s taken to lining his buildings with lead… to block my x-ray vision.” Superman admitted, turning towards Batwoman.

“Well there’s always the direct approach…” Batwoman shrugged. Clark smirked before he turned and punched a hole in the wall in front of them. With a little bow he stepped aside to allow Batwoman to enter the building. “You’re learning.” Batwoman smirked.

“So anything I should know about the Joker?” Superman asked as he fell into step beside the Dark Knight.

“He’ll try to hurt you.” Batwoman replied.

“I meant anything I didn’t already know.” Clark shot back, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

“He’ll be trying to hurt you to attract my attention. That’s probably the main reason he decided to try and kill you.”

“To attract your attention?” Clark blinked, his face a mask of confusion.

“He’s got a crush on me… and what can only be described as an extremely twisted sense of nobility.” Batwoman explained with a tired shrug. “Gotham villains are… different.”

The corridor the two heroes were walking along turned into a large open area, with a couple of cranes and machines designed for moving heavy objects scattered around. All around the two heroes were what appeared to be larger verisons of the WayneLex T7... which were more heavily armed then the one that the Joker had used to attack Batwoman.

“This isn’t what Rachel Wayne wanted…” Batwoman growled as she looked around.

Then the robots turned on and started to close in around the Dark Knight and the Man of Steel as the building shook and the two heroes could hear the sound of several large something’s collapsing as the entire building shook. But before either one could figure out what was happening the robots started their attack.

Lasers shot through the air as Batwoman threw herself into a series of elegant gymnastic moves, while Clark relied on his sheer speed to escape from the lasers that were aimed at him.

Batwoman fired off her grappling gun, swinging up and around. The robots followed her with their lasers… it seemed that some of the common sense Wayne Enterprises had programmed into the WayneLex T7s had been erased when the “upgrades” were made, because the ‘bots didn’t even have the sense to stop firing… instead the lasers which had been following Batwoman caused two of the robots to destroy each other.

Meanwhile Clark was busy, tearing the legs off one robot and throwing them at another, which ended up taking down both robots. Another pair of robots crept closer to Superman. This time Clark just used his heat vision to carve some bits out of their heads, destroying the lasers as well as causing the two robots to fall to the ground and explode.

Clark found himself watching Batwoman take down the remaining two robots… she threw two batarangs, which flew from her hand and embedded themselves into the robots. Electricity flowed through the two small projectiles, causing the robots to twist and turn as electricity fried their circuits. After making sure that the robots were down Batwoman silently turned to look at Clark.

“Couldn’t have done it better myself.” Superman smirked, moving to stand next to the Dark Knight.

“It helps to be prepared.” Batwoman replied.

Before the two could plan their next move the wall behind them fell to the ground as a new, larger robot crashed through it… a robot that had Mercy attached to it’s side. Luthor’s bodyguard had been tied to the side of the robot with duck tape… lots and lots of duck tape. Mercy’s mouth was also covered in duck tape, but her screams could still be heard, even by those without super-hearing.

Superman raced forward, his fist moving faster then the eye could follow to punch the machine… only to find that the robot had rotated it’s body so that if he followed through with the punch he would kill Mercy. He managed to stop himself in time… but every single attempt he made to destroy the robot ended with Mercy being in the way.

While the robot was busy keeping Superman from punching and destroying it, Batwoman had figured out a way to help the Man of Steel take it down. She carefully aimed her grappling hook, using the strong wire to ensnare the robot’s head. By getting the wire over an overhead beam and attaching it to a nearby pully system, Batwoman was able to yank the robot’s head up, so that it couldn’t see where Superman was. In a blur of motion Superman snatched Mercy off the robot, using his heat vision to destroy the duck tape, dropped her on the side and quickly destroyed the robot.

Batwoman didn’t pause to be gentle as she ripped the tape off Mercy’s mouth. “Where’s Luthor?” She growled, her voice actually causing Mercy to turn pale.

“The Joker took him in the Lex Wing…” Mercy coughed weakly, still shaking form her ordeal and how _terrifying_ Batwoman had suddenly become. “Joker told him that he’d lose everything he’d ever built.”

A slight breeze told Batwoman that Clark had super-speeded over to her side. “Luthor’s built half of Metropolis!” He said, somehow managing not to stutter.


	10. Abi In Pace

  
  
_  
**Abi In Pace = Latin for “Depart In Peace”**   
_   


_Batwoman didn’t pause to be gentle as she ripped the tape off Mercy’s mouth. “Where’s Luthor?” She growled, her voice actually causing Mercy to turn pale._

 _“The Joker took him in the Lex Wing…” Mercy coughed weakly, still shaking form her ordeal and how **terrifying** Batwoman had suddenly become. “Joker told him that he’d lose everything he’d ever built.”_

 _A slight breeze told Batwoman that Clark had super-speeded over to her side. “Luthor’s built half of Metropolis!” He said, somehow managing not to stutter._

“Then if we don’t stop the Joker then he’s going to bring that half to the ground.” Batwoman replied, turning towards Clark. Before she could say anything more the ceiling split into several large pieces and came tumbling down.

Before anyone could blink Superman was between Batwoman, Mercy and the falling ceiling, making sure that they weren’t hit by any chunks of debris. Before Superman could inquire if Batwoman had plan or knew why the ceiling had crumbled a robot stepped out of the rubble. This robot was much, much larger then any of the other ones which had attacked the two heroes. _I wonder if the saying about me and their cars applies to villains and their robots?_ Rachel wondered as she started doging the robot’s attacks.

Mercy was already running away as fast as her legs could take her… neither Batwoman or Superman were really worried about Mercy, each one trusting that she could take care of herself… but it also seemed like the robot wasn’t making any real effort to stop Mercy. Rachel was pretty sure that the robot had actually been programmed to only go after the two heroes… it probably was only there to stop, or at least slow down, Batwom and Superman.

They couldn’t afford to fight this giant robot. The Joker was at least half way to Metropolis right now and the robot was only going to keep them at the Factory while innocent people died… even if the fight went perfect and it only took the two heros a few minutes to defeat the robot… it would be too long a delay.

“I’ll take the robot, you go deal with the Joker!” Superman shouted, already leaping into action, taking potshots with his laser vision in order to distract the robot, to keep it’s attention firmly fixed on him so that Batwoman could get away.

Batwoman didn’t take the time to stop and acknowledge Clark’s actions. As soon as he spoke she was running, her hand flying over the remote controls of her jet, getting the engines started and warmed up. She had no idea what the “Lex Wing” was… but she knew that if Lex had designed it, and the Joker was flying it then on good could come out of the situation.

“Good luck Clark Kent…” Rachel Wayne murmured as the Batpit’s cockpit closed and the sleek black plane rose into the night sky.

If Batwoman had looked back she just might have seen Clark Kent’s eyes widen at her whisper… and she might just have seen him smile.

Clark was violently drawn out of his musings when one of the robot’s arms slammed into his stomach, throwing him back against a wall of the factory. As more of the factory collapsed around them Clark charged at the robot… only to fin himself lying on the ground screaming in agony.

Attached to the giant robot’s side, the side that it could twist and turn so that it was always facing Superman, was a large chunk of Kryptonite. It looked like the Joker had attached the second half of the Laughing Dragon to the largest of Lex Luthor’s robots… and this time Batwoman wouldn’t be swinging in to rescue him if he failed to find some way around the deadly green rock.

Superman found himself biting back another scream of pain as one of the robot’s many, many arms slammed into his body, sending him crashing through yet another wall of Luthor’s factory.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Meanwhile Batwoman was pushing her jet well beyond the acceptable limits of the technology. Rachel knew very well that she was racing against the clock to catch up with the Joker and whatever technology he’d taken from Luthor.

The one good thing about pushing Wayne Tech to just around the breaking point was that she made _amazing_ time. Soon enough the skyline of Metropolis came into view… along with the destruction. I looked like the Joker was making good on his promise to Lex… and killing a lot of innocents in the process..

Rachel’s hands flew over the controls of her jet, activating and launcing every single weapon that Lucius had stuffed the jet with… but even with the ridiculous amount of firepower that the Batjet possessed, Batwoman was pretty sure that she actually didn’t have enough firepower to take down the “Lex Wing”… it was just too damn big! With the Batjet alone she probably couldn’t take it down… but she could at least distract the Joker and keep him chasing her. And if the Joker was chasing her, then he would be less likely to endanger more innocents.

After launching her weapons at the Lex Wing, Batwoman rocketed past it, turning towards the sea… and thankfully the Joker followed her, shooting what seemed like thousands of missiles at the Batjet. Rachel was doing her best to dodge them… but there were so damn many! _Jesus Christ Lex! How many missiles do you need?!?_

In her attempts to avoid the missiles Batwoman and the Batjet ended up flying just above the Lex Wing… and it was at that point that one of the missiles managed to find it’s target. Rachel didn’t even have time to brace herself for impact… one second she was fine, flying free and avoiding everything that came her way… the next moment the entire ship lurched violently.

Rachel rode out the shock wave as the monitors inside the jet informed her of the damage… she’d lost the majority of her right wing and there was significant damage to the engines. She was losing control of the jet. In the best case scenario she would have time for one last maneuver before she lost all control and the jet started to plummet towards the ground.

Forcing herself to stay calm, Batwoman typed in her final commands, took a deep breath and hit the eject button. As the jet flew away, Rachel Wayne dropped through the air, her gaze focused straight down on the Lex Wing. As the Batjet swooped low to get the Joker’s attention Batwoman landed on the Wing with a dull thud and held on as tightly as she could.

As the Batjet crashed into the ocean and completed the self-destruct sequence Batwoman managed to get some sort of emergency exit on the Lex Wing open and had slipped inside. Swiftly and silently she made her way through the twisting halls of the Lex Wing, moving closer and closer to the Joker and his captive.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Clark’s entire body hurt… thanks (mostly) to the chunk of kryptonite strapped to it’s body, the robot was beating him into a fine pulp, flinging him around and into walls… and the worst part was that Clark couldn’t really do anything about it. Every time he tried to stop the robot the Kryptonite forced him to his knees and the robot would just start beating him up again.

It was beginning to become a pattern… metal limb hit him, Superman flew through air, hit a wall. Wall collapsed as Clark was consumed by pain and fell to the ground…

But then the giant robot decided that it was tired to flinging Superman around… it decided to just squish him.

Not too far from where Superman had fallen there was, lying on the ground, a large metal door, which had most likely been knocked off it’s hinges when Batwoman and Clark had been fighting the smaller robots. The giant robot picked up the door and hauled it over, before slamming it down on top of Superman.

Clark threw up his arms, expecting to get squashed by the door, thanks of the effect of the kryptonite… only to blink in confused surprise when he easily managed to hold the metal surface away from him. He took a hard look at the door and grinned.

“Lead lined door…” he realized, a smirk on his face as he pushed with all his might.. “I’ll have to thank Luthor!”

With the lead blocking the effects of the kryptonite it was all too easy for Superman to push back against the robot… and just keep pushing. Clark didn’t stop pushing against the lead door until he had crashed through every single wall of the factory, through the air and into the side of a cliff. When Superman couldn’t feel the robot pushing back anymore he let the door fall.

The door tumbled towards the bottom of the canyon, leaving the robot crushed against the rock face. The chuck of kryptonite had been shattered by the force of the impact, and the shards slipped free, falling down into the depths of the canyon. Clark would have to come back later, with the proper protective equipment, to make sure that non one else got a hold of the shards. But right now he needed to get back to Metropolis… he had a feeling that Batwoman might need help.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It hadn’t taken too long for Rachel to work her way through the Lex Wing… while it was huge, most of that space seemed to be taken up by engines and weapons. Once she reached ton control room it had been all too easy to sneak inside, her footsteps unnoticeable due to the noise of the engines and Lex’s protests.

The Joker was sitting at what Batwoman assumed was the pilot’s seat, with Harley standing a short distance away. Lex Luthor was ducked taped to a seat next to the Joker and yelling at the Clown Prince of Crime.

Harley leaned forward, pointing to something out the window… and that was when Batwoman chose to make her move. Dashing forward she shoved Harley forward, knocking her head against the glass and causing the madwoman to fall to the side, clutching at her aching head. Before the Joker could react to Batwoman’s sudden appearance Rachel grabbed at his suit, using the fabric to yank the Clown Prince of Crime out of the pilot’s seat. The Joker’s hands slipped over the controls, causing the Lex Wing to lurch violently, which sent both Batwoman and the Joker sliding across the floor.

As Dark Knight and Madman fought for dominance, Lex struggled against the duck tape, yelling for Harley to do something. Still reeling from getting her head smashed against the glass, the former psychologist scrambled to try and pull the Lex Wing out of the nose dive it had taken when the Joker left the controls… a nose dive which was taking the giant plane straight towards a rather large building.

Batwoman didn’t know how the Joker had managed to fly the Lex Wing, but it was clear that he hadn’t shown Harley how to handle his newest toy. The Joker’s would-be girlfriend could do little more then push random buttons and hope that something worked… while the Joker and Batwoman continued to fight, the turbulence making it neigh on impossible for one of them to gain the upper hand.

Harley screamed as she realized that she couldn’t control the Lex Wing, and Batwoman tried to break free of the Joker’s grip so that she could stop the Lex Wing… but the Joker, not seeing how close the Lex Wing was to crashing, growled and struggled just as hard to gain control over Batwoman. Just when it seemed that the Lex Wing couldn’t be stopped, that it was going to crash into the building… the craft suddenly gained altitude and turned so that it was heading towards the sea once more.

Batwoman managed to shove the Joker back, which allowed both hero and villain to get to their feet. The Joker reached into his pocket and Batwoman lashed out, kicking at his hand before he could grab anything… this caused a small brown bag to fall out of the Joker’s pocket. When the bag hit the ground hundreds of marbles, the same exploding ones which the Joker had used against them earlier, spilled out on to the ground.

The Joker backed away from the marbles, his eyes wide. Batwoman resisted the urge to swear in several different languages as the marbles started to explode. Lex was white as a sheet and only seconds away from screaming when Superman shot up through the floor right in front of him.

Batwoman knew that the Lex Wing would not survived the combined explosions of the Joker’s marbles. It was obvious that the Lex Wing was going to crash and explode… and that order was only if they were really lucky.

“It’s gonna blow!” Batwoman yelled at Superman. “Get Luthor out!”

Thankfully Superman obeyed her orders, grabbing Lex Luthor as Batwoman dove towards Harley, punching the woman in the face so she wouldn’t fight her. Batwoman looked back at where the Joker had been only seconds before… only to discover that the madman wasn’t there anymore. Rachel didn’t have time to figure out where the Joker had gone, the explosions were growing larger and more frequent, Harley as trying to scratch out Batwoman’s eyes even though her head was ringing from Rachel’s punches… in short, Batwoman had no more time to spend or waste.

After taking one final look around the cockpit for any signs of the Joker, Batwoman tightened her grip on Harley Quinn and jumped out of the hole that Superman had created.

“ _Stop fighting if you want to live._ ” Batwoman growled at Harley, who was grumbled but quickly stopped trying to attack Batwoman, allowing Rachel to stop fighting with her and concentrate on using her cape to glide away from the fireball that had once been the Lex Wing…

It wasn’t too hard and didn’t take too long to land on the shore. Before Harley could start fighting with her Batwoman cuffed her and, keeping to the shadows, shoved her towards the circle of cop cars which Superman had landed inside of. Silently she watched as Superman spoke with the Metropolis Police, his eyes moving towards Batwoman’s hiding place once or twice, although no one else noticed.

When the Metropolis Police finally left, with Harley tied up in the back of patrol car and Lex sitting untied in the passenger seat of another, Clark made a grand show of waving goodbye before taking off into the sky... only to reappear at Rachel’s side within a matter of seconds.

“So what happens now?” Superman asked her. “You go back to Gotham, back to the shadows and back alleys?”

“I only came to Metropolis because the Joker decided to come _here_ …” Batwoman replied. “If one of your villains comes to Gotham… then feel free to drop in.”

“Batwoman…why don’t you join the League?” Clark asked, turning away from the Dark Knight and looking out at the harbor, where he could see the still flaming wreck of the Lex Wing. “You’re.. good. You could probably run rings…” he trailed off and turned back around. Superman wasn’t surprised to find that Batwoman had vanished into the night.

The Joker had been stopped… Batwoman probably wanted to get back to Gotahm as soon as possible. She was sure to be gone before the sun rose… but there was another Gothamite that Clark could speak with who, if his suspicions were correct, just might be able to pass on a message to the Dark Knight.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 _Hello, this is Angela Chen… although the search for the Joker’s body continues, the Coast Guard reports that it is extremely unlikely that Gotham’s most notorious criminal survived the crash._

 _In related news, billionaire Lex Luthor was once again rigorously grilled by the DA’s Office over his alleged connection to the Joker’s rampage. His statements have been questioned both by local law officials and Gotham Heiress Rachel Wayne, who announced the immediate termination of her company’s partnership with LexCorp…_

 _On a somewhat lighter note, the Joker’s accomplice Harley Quinzel has been handed over to the Gotham Police Department. The former psychiatrist will be returned to Arkahm Asylum for another round of rehabilitation._

Rachel Wayne found herself smirking slightly as Harley appeared on the television. The woman’s face had the appearance of having just recently been vigorously scrubbed and she was tied up in a grey straight jacket. As two police men pushed her into the armored car that would transport her back to Arkham she was sobbing and screaming at the camera....

 _“ **I want a lawyer! I want a doctor!** ” She blinked as if she had only just realized that she was being filmed, and a smirk grew on her face as she shouted: “ **I WANT A CHEESE SANDWICH!**_

As Rachel reached forward to turn off the small television the limos he was riding in stopped. Gracefully Rachel stepped out, automatically putting her sunglasses on to combat the setting sun, which was painting the sky. _Red sky at night, Sailor’s delight…_ Rachel mused as she turned towards her private jet.

Due to Lex’s very public involvement with the Joker’s Metropolis exploits Rachel had to cut ties with Lex, something she had, of course, been planning to do ever since Lex showed her the modified WayneLex T7s. However due to the publicity which the project had generated she’d had to cut ties with Luthor in a manor that was both fitting for her public persona and guaranteed that Lex Luthor wouldn’t hold the dissolution of the partnership against her… after all, he would most likely clear his name and decided to pursue her again, most likely for both business and personal reasons. All in all it was a very delicate situation, which meant that Rachel had been forced to stay in Metropolis for a bit longer then she would have preferred.

But now her business was done, the sun was setting and her private plane was ready and waiting to take both her and Alfred back Gotham, back to stately Wayne Manor and her “normal” life.

As Rachel made her way from limo to plane she wasn’t surprised to see that a single man was standing, waiting for her just before the boarding stairs. Usually there would have been a rather substantial crowd of reporters watching as Rachel Wayne left Metropolis and there was sure to be a crowd waiting for her in Gotham… but the fact that Lex Luthor might, just might, get caught doing something illegal was too good a story to abandon. Despite all that, it didn’t look too strange that one lone reporter had decided to come see her off, on the off chance of getting something printable out of the trip.

 _So… are you here as Clark Kent or as Superman in Clark Kent’s clothing?_ Rachel wondered, not allowing her thoughts to appear on her face or in her body language.

“Come to see me off?” Rachel asked, giving the alien her best slightly flirtatious smile. “I’m surprised you’re not chasing after Lex.”

“I drew the short straw.” Clark shrugged.

Rachel looked over to the jet, before slowly moving her gaze back to Clark. “You could always come with me…” Rachel teased. “Make news instead of reporting it. You’d make a cute boy toy, I’d be sure to make every woman in the world insanely jealous.”

The blush that spread over Clark Kent’s face was amusing, the stammer even more so as he struggled to come up with a response. _Superman can be cute… who knew?_

“I’m guessing that’s a no?” Rachel sighed dramatically and pouted ever so slightly. “Well if you’re ever in Gotham you’ll have to drop by. You can…” She trailed off, causing another blush to spread over Superman’s face. “You can regale me with madcap tales of the nightlife in Smallville.”

“…what?” Clark blinked.

“Smallville? The official name for middle of nowhere? The place where you’re from… right?” Rachel did her best not to give off the impression that she knew everything about Smallville and Clark parents, at least from a facts standpoint. “Lois seemed to be pretty sure that was the place…”

“Well yes, but… why was she telling you about Smallville?”

“I thought you had an accent so I asked her about it.” Rachel shrugged. “So, any final questions for me _Smallville?_?”

Clark fidgeted nervously with his glasses for a few seconds, glancing uneasily at Rachel before he finally spoke. “What did you think of Metropolis Miss Wayne?”

Rachel was surprised to find that she actually had to think about her answer. She turned slightly, her eyes sweeping over the skyline of the city in question as she ran a hand through her hair.

“It was… nice. I mean, I fell off a building and my business partner is being questioned by the police… but when I fell I was saved by Superman. What girl _doesn’t_ dream of meeting the Man of Steel?” She laughed at her own answer and turned back towards Clark. “Sorry, but your town is sort of judged by your hero… but then what town isn’t? I mean just look at Gotham.”

Clark nodded silently, seemingly unable to say anything. Rachel smiled stepped past the reporter, touching his shoulder gently. “Thanks for seeing me off Kent.” She whispered as she passed by him.

Clark Kent watched Rachel Wayne, Gotham’s Princess and (possibly) Batwoman’s employer, climb the stairs and enter her private jet. He kept watching as the door closed behind her… and as the plane slowly taxied before taking off. He’d wanted to talk to her, wanted to convince her to have Batwoman at least consider joining the League… but somehow it hadn’t felt right. A brightly lit runway just didn’t seem like the right place to talk about costumed heroes.

Besides, the speech would sound more impressive coming from the Man Of Steel… and there was always the possibility that Batwoman hadn’t told Rachel Wayne Superman’s identity.


	11. Domus In Colle

  
  
_  
**Domus In Colle = Latin for “House On The Hill”**   
_   


_She knew that something was wrong, but her thoughts were sluggish, she couldn’t connect the dots. Instead her thoughts chose to focus on little things, little facts which didn’t necessarily mean anything. Her bowl was lying upside down on the ground, a trail of rice branching off like the tail of a comet. Her legs were weak, as if she’d just finished the longest run of her life. She hadn’t felt this weak since she’d climbed up the mountain and entered the Monastery._

 _Rachel pressed a hand to her head before she was even aware that she had a headache. She shivered as the world seemed to spin beneath her... although she wasn’t cold, and didn’t feel dizzy. Before she was aware she felt sick she started to dry heave, and it became harder and harder for her to breathe._

 _She somehow knew that Henri was talking to her, and guessed he was asking a question, but she couldn’t figure out what exactly he was saying. His words were like rain falling on a tin roof, a background noise with no real meaning._

 _Henri placed a hand on her shoulder and Rachel couldn’t support the weight. Her legs went out from under her and she fell backwards. Unable to scream, her eyes wide open, she struggled to grab on to Henri, even as she felt his arm dart under her back, wrapping around her._

 _She blacked out just as she felt the slight jerk which meant that Henri had managed to catch her, to keep her off the ground._

 _She did not seem to wake up immediately… instead it felt like she was floating, suspended in a dark, silent abyss for a long, long time._

 _She woke slowly, the first thing to penetrate the abyss was a dull ache. Her entire body felt like it was a single large bruise, which throbbed to a regular rhythm. As she became more and more aware, Rachel realized that the rhythm was her own heart beating._

 _Next came her sense of touch… she was wrapped in blankets, lying in a soft bed. She knew it couldn’t be the hard cot in Henri’s “sitting room”, the one which had been her bed since her first night in the League of Shadows._

 _The throbbing was slowly driven away, or at least dulled, by the warmth which seemed to surround her. Rachel’s ears decided to start working. She could hear the fire which was supplying the warmth, and the distant sound of wind blowing outside of the Monastery._

 _Her mind started to piece things together. Her arms were lying on top of the blankets… she was pretty sure that she was no longer wearing the clothing which she’d had on the last time she was conscious. The long sleeved shirt covering her arms felt lighter, like the one she tended to sleep in._

 _Rachel’s hands fisted the blanket as she became aware that her throat was raw and she was horribly, desperately thirsty. She forced herself to open her eyes… thankfully the room was fairly dark, the fire supplying the only light. Although the fire’s light was dimmed by a screen in front of it, it still burned her eyes. She blinked, hoping that it would help her become accustomed to the light. Once she could look around without pain, she tilted her head to the left… As her eyes swept over the room Rachel realized that she was in Henri’s private room, lying in her Master’s bed._

 _She struggled to make sense of what had happened to her. She blinked and looked over as the door opened. Henri Ducard entered on silent feet, carrying a wooden tray with a pitcher, glass and bowl on it. Rachel felt the strangest urge to laugh when she realized that he was carrying the tray in one hand, as if he was a waiter in a fancy Parisian restaurant. Without speaking a word Henri placed the tray on a side table next to the bed and leaned forward, offering Rachel his hand._

 _She had to think about the movement for a second, but eventually Rachel managed to get her arm to raise and her hand to grab Henri’s. With her Master’s help she was able to pull her body into a sitting position… but once she was upright what little strength Rachel had managed to call on vanished. She would have fallen back down, but Henri’s free arm shot out, cradling her head and stopping her fall, while somehow managing to keep his distance. Rachel mentally cursed her weakness as Henri helped her to lean back against the headboard, making sure that her back and head were supported by pillows._

 _The silence which grew was strangely comfortable. She made no attempt to speak as Henri filled the glass with water from the pitcher and held it out for her. Rachel was pleasantly surprised to find some strength in her arms, and with Henri’s help was able to hold the glass. She raised it to her lips and Henri sat on a chair next to the bed. “Slowly,” he instructed. “You have been unconscious for three days. The doctors believed that you would be unconscious for one or two more… if you were to ever wake up.”_

 _Rachel blinked, before she handed the now empty glass back to Henri. She swallowed a few times before trying to speak. “What happened?” She asked, pain making her voice weak and her words fragmented. The water had helped, but it still felt like she had been on a diet of sandpaper and razor blade milkshakes._

 _“Chao-xing poisoned your food.” Henri informed her, placing the glass back on the tray. “She has been… dealt with.”_

 _“Why? Why did she try…” Rachel trailed off, unable to continue speaking._

 _Henri made a small gesture, indicating that he had understood Rachel’s question. With a somewhat pensive look upon his face he turned towards the side-table, picking up a wooden bowl and spoon. He placed the bowl in Rachel’s lap and helped her get a grip on the spoon. She smiled softly in thanks and did her best to eat the thin porridge slowly, even though her stomach was growling._

 _Henri leaned back in his chair, steepled his fingers and, finally, spoke. “You are aware that your training has been… unorthodox.”_

 _Rachel nodded. Traditionally and usually a new recruit to the League would fight the strongest Master present, usually Henri, as a sort of entrance exam. Then they would be placed in a group with several other new and/or less able students. If they gained enough skill and knowledge they would challenge one of the Masters. If they impressed that Master with their abilities then they would become their apprentice._

 _Then the process was repeated. As the student gained experience they moved up through the ranks of the Masters, ending up in smaller and smaller groups. A student was always proving him or herself in combat, be it against another student or a Master. Eventually students either stayed at the Monastery as a Master or left to follow Ra’s Al Ghul’s orders in the world outside._

 _But Rachel had never been in a group of students._

 _Within seconds of entering the League of Shadows she had fought Henri… and when he’d defeated her Henri had become her Master. She’d gone from a nobody to the only student of Ra’s Al Ghul’s unofficial second in command._

 _Despite knowing that her situation was unusual, Rachel had never really thought about it before, never questioned her place in the League. She had always been too concerned with her studies, with learning everything that Henri taught her and becoming a better fighter. She understood that it was strange, understood that her position was even a tad bit dangerous, to be the exception to the rules in a society as structured as the League of Shadows… but she had never really thought about it._

 _“You are aware that I fight everyone who desires to enter the League…” Henri’s voice was steady and practically devoid of emotion. “For most this is simply a trail by fire, the first and in some ways the most important test. It shows the entire League their strengths and weaknesses. We are able to rid the League of those not worthy of teaching, those who have no talent. Even we can not build where there is no foundation.” Henri reached over and took the now empty bowl from Rachel._

 _“However every now and then a truly talented individual seeks to join us, a person who would only gain wasted time from the traditional methods.” Henri paused, as if he was unsure of what to say next. The silence seemed to stretch on forever, with no noise save for fire and the ever present sound of wind and falling snow outside of the Monastery’s walls._

 _“There are Masters here, men and women who have been training all their lives… and you could have beaten them on that first day, when you claimed that you ‘could barely stand.’ They know that they could never possess your tallent, let alone your desire and will to succeed… that is why I broke with tradition, Rachel Wayne. That is why I took you as my personal student… it is also the cause of Chao-xing’s actions”_

 _“She wanted to be your student…” Rachel realized, forcing herself to speak despite the lingering pain. “But you only teach one person at a time.”_

 _“Before you came here I had no student and Chao-xing was making steady, if unremarkable, progress. Unfortunately her progress seemed remarkable to the other students, giving her a somewhat inflated sense of importance. Chao-xing had hoped to become my student, which would have been fairly easy, but your entrance into the League forced her to change those plans. In order to progress she would have had to defeat you… or at the very least hold her own in a fight against you.”_

 _Rachel cast her mind back over the students who had challenged her to combat… and found Chao-xing there, although she couldn’t seem to remember the details of the fight. “I defeated her.” Rachel shrugged, handing the empty bowl back to Henri. She’d defeated every student that she fought._

 _“Miss Wayne, you did much more then defeat her… you **humiliated** her.” Henri laughed softly. “But instead of taking the honorable path of admitting that you were stronger and returning to her own studies…”_

 _“She tired to eliminate the competition.” Rachel whispered, her hands clutching the blanket that was covering her body._

 _“As I said before, she has been dealt with.” Henri said as he stood, his eyes growing distant and cold. “You are on strict bed rest. Until I am satisfied that you have recovered you are exempt from all obligations and are not to leave this room. Do you understand?”_

 _“Yes.” Rachel replied, bowing her head respectfully as her Master left._

A nightmare is still a nightmare, even if you don’t wake with your heart racing and a scream on your lips. That was one thing Rachel Wayne had learned over the past two years…

It had been five days since she had returned from her little trip to Metropolis… five days and nights of waiting for the Man of Steel to drop in. She knew that Clark Kent wasn’t going to just forget about Batwoman. Sooner or later he’d be back, most likely to try and get her to join the Justice League… and Rachel didn’t know how she would respond to that.

The Justice League was, Rachel had to admit, a good idea. Occasionally heroes needed backup, and it wasn’t like they could call on the police for help… and then there was the chance that something much too large for any one hero to deal with would happen… It was a good thing that the Justice League existed--- but she didn’t know if it was a good idea for Batwoman to join the Justice League.

She’d hacked into the Justice League’s computers almost as soon as they’d gone online… and it had been disturbingly easy to gain access to the security cameras on the Watchtower. She’d fixed their security so that no one else could get in, but hadn’t had the time or any real reason to watch the feed. When she returned from Metropolis both Rachel and Alfred had spent a good amount of time watching the videos, so that they could figure out how the League worked…

Rachel now knew that most of the League shared identities. A few members kept their “real” names secret, but they were mostly the ones who had little actual contact with the League or were regarded as slightly disturbed (like the Question, whom Rachel had already developed a fondness for).

Even though she already trusted the members of the Justice League, Rachel knew she wouldn’t tell them her identity… and she was worried that this would cause problems to arise, with Ollie at the very least. It would already be hard for the League to accept “the Dark Knight”… and not revealing her identity would only make that acceptance harder for them.

The other problem Rachel saw with joining the League was Gotham… she loved her town, but it was a cruel mistress. Her short absence from Gotham had not gone unnoticed… the criminals of her city seemed to think that Batwoman being spotted in Metropolis meant that she was never coming back. She’d spent every night since her return “reclaiming” her beloved city. In the process she’d gained more bruises then she cared to count and one extremely nasty wound on her left leg.

She was worried that if Batwoman joined the Justice League the criminals of her city would think that they could escape her… she might lose what ground she’d gained in her struggle against the corruption that plagued Gotham.

With a yawn Rachel pulled herself into an upright position, pushing away the nest of pillows she’d created in the middle of her extremely large bed (Alfred’s idea, although she’d grown to like the monstrous thing). Once she was sitting up Rachel slowly pulled back the leg of her thin sleep pants so that she could examine her newest wound.

Her new armor was amazing, a true testament to science and Lucius’ genius… but unfortunately he hadn’t been kidding when he’d told her that she would be more vulnerable to knives and gunfire.

The Joker hadn’t shown his face since his “death” on the Lex Wing… and Harley wasn’t good enough to get out of Arkham on her own. That meant that a large number of the Joker’s goons were leaderless and roaming the streets of Gotham. Several of those goons had, once they heard that Batwoman was back in town, decided to take “revenge” on the Dark Knight.

While Rachel had been kicking a gun out of one man’s hands another had stabbed her in the leg. She’d managed to stay silently stoic and take down the goons, leaving them tied to a lamp post for the police to return to Arkham. As soon as she could she stumbled back to the Tumbler and raced home to Alfred… the pain hadn’t really been noticeable, she’d developed too much of a tolerance for it… but she’d been able to feel the blood pouring down her leg and into her boot.

Alfred had tended to the stab wound before allowing Rachel to fall asleep… her oldest friend was a good doctor and Rachel was sure that he was taking classes so he could become even better. She’d fallen asleep as Alfred left the room, her leg full of stitches and bandaged… but sometime during the night she must have jostled her leg, because she could see blood seeping through the white strips.

Rachel quickly took off the bandages, being careful not to tear anything open again. The wound was bloody, but seemed to be healing. Besides, it was a relatively small amount of blood, not enough to warrant too much concern. Without really thinking Rachel reached into a drawer on her side table, removing the first aid supplies that Alfred kept there before quickly and efficiently changing the bandages.

As soon as Rachel was sure that her wound was properly tended to, she rose from her bed and stretched, testing the strength in her leg… before dropping to the ground, her hands darting out as she started her usual workout: 400 pushups and 400 sit-ups… although she did adjust slightly to take some of the stress off her leg.

She was just finishing up when Alfred entered, carrying a tray of breakfast in his hands and the Gotham Gazette under one arm. He didn’t say anything, although Rachel could tell that he didn’t approve of the workout… his eyes lingered on her wounded leg for what seemed like years before he started speaking.

“The meeting for today with Queen Enterprises has been postponed for at least a week.” He informed her. “There was a robbery last night, it appears that Mister Queen was out of town on League business at the time of the incident.”

“Money, research or actual tech?” Rachel asked, checking the bandages on her leg before standing up.

“Technology, however there are some questionable financial transactions which are being investigated. The evidence seems to suggest an inside job, although Queen Enterprises are, of course, hiding that fact from the public and the press.”

“Anything that we need to be concerned with?” Rachel asked, taking the glass of orange juice off Alfred’s tray, which he had set on the bedside table. She drank most of the juice in a single long gulp.

“Lucius believes that we don’t need to worry. He has already offered Mister Queen any spare equipment that Wayne Enterprises possesses… Mister Queen, though his assistant, expresses his regrets that he must attend to his company and therefore can not meet with you today.”

“I assume you returned those regrets?” Rachel smiled and Alfred nodded once. “So no Ollie… anything else scheduled for today?”

“Not presently. I will, of course, inform you should anything occur. Do I need to invent a cause for your _latest_ injury?”

“It wouldn’t hurt to have one ready…” Rachel sighed, looking down at her leg before heading over towards her closet. “I’ll do my best to keep it hidden… it shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Very well Miss Rachel, is there anything else you require?”

“No Alfred.” Rachel replied with a yawn, as she rummaged through the various items of ridiculously expensive clothing in her closet. “I’ll find someway to pass the time.” She looked back at Alfred, a smile on her face, trying her best to look “normal”… whatever the hell that meant.

Alfred smiled ever so slightly and softly, nodding his head respectfully towards his employer before he left, closing the door of Rachel’s bedroom behind him. The instant the door closed Rachel’s smile vanished. She finally succeeded in locating her chosen shirt and tossed it on to the bed, along with a pair of blue jeans.

She didn’t think that she fooled Alfred… in fact she was pretty sure that Alfred knew about her nightmares, despite her best efforts to conceal them from him. Rachel would be the first one to admit that Alfred knew her better then she knew herself. Thankfully this meant that Alfred knew that if he tried to make Rachel talk about her nightmares it wouldn’t help to relieve any of the old aches, or erase any of the scars--- mental or physical.

Both Alfred and Rachel knew that the best the she could hope for was that the sunlight would keep her in the present… and that this cycle of nightmares would be over sooner rather then later.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It had been five days since Clark Kent had watched Rachel Wayne step into her private jet and fly off towards Gotham. Five days of wanting to get over to Gotham and speak with her… five days of Superman having to run all over the world to deal with one problem or another… it was like the whole world was conspiring to keep him from speaking with Rachel Wayne and/or Batwoman. Although to be fair it seemed like Batwoman was having as much trouble as Superman was and Rachel Wayne seemed to be having a hard time dealing with some investors losing faith in her company after the deal with LexCorp.

But finally things seemed to be clearing up… well _sorta_ clearing up. While the world never really quieted down, it had returned to what Clark hesitantly called “normal”… meaning that Superman could leave what problems arose to local heroes and Clark Kent could take a half-day at the Daily Planet.

So after making his excuses to Lois (he’d started talking about his parents and the farm and she‘d stopped listening) Clark had hightailed it out of the Daily Planet before Perry could give him an extra assignment. A quick change of costume, a call to his parents to inform them that they were his alibi and Superman was making his way towards Gotham.

He knew that Batwoman most likely wouldn’t talk with him. He had no doubt that she had some kryptonite stashed away, which she’d pull out if he came looking for her… but Rachel Wayne was a different story.

Rachel Wayne was his way of getting to Batwoman… if his suspicions were correct and she was financing Batwoman’s activities. Clark needed to get Rachel Wayne to convince Batwoman to at least _consider_ joining the Justice League… and to tell the truth, he wanted to make sure the Billioniare was all right, even though he knew Batwoman was almost certainly keeping an eye on her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Getting dressed had taken Rachel longer then usual due to the pain that raced through her left leg whenever she bent it too much… or put weight on it. That was… troublesome. Rachel had originally been right handed. During her time in the League of Shadows she’d made herself ambidextrous, although she still favored her right hand. Because of this she tended towards using her right leg to kick, sweep or any movement involving one leg. So while her right leg smashed into criminal’s faces or tripped them up her left leg would support her weight… her injured left leg. Rachel could tell that she was going to be in for some trouble the next time she put on the suit. She could only hope that Gotham would quiet down for a little while.

Once she’d managed to pull on her clothing Rachel had been heading down towards one of the secret passageways to the Batcave. She’d been intending to kill some time going over data, or perhaps working on the Tumbler, the Batpod or her new Batjet… but for some reason she found herself standing in the study, not even moving towards the bust of Shakespeare that hide the switch that would pull back one of the bookshelves and reveal an elevator which went straight down to the cave.

When her parents had been alive the room had been her Mother’s study, a place where she could relax and unwind after a long day… according to Alfred the room had originally been used to store Great-Grand Aunt Elspeth’s extensive collection of tea sets. Martha had been the first Wayne wife who was brave enough to get rid of the more hideous bits of Elspeth’s collection, which had allowed Martha to claim the room as her own.

When Rachel had returned to Gotham she’d taken over her father’s study, which was more like a nook in the Mannor’s Library… but she’d also taken over her mother’s. She’d only added a television and computer to each study, keeping everything else almost exactly the way it had been when her parents were alive. Her father’s study was for work, for Wayne Enterprises… her mother’s study was for her. She never brought work into that room, be it Wayne Enterprises or her nighttime activities.

A large low sofa took up one corner of the room, underneath one of two windows, which managed to catch the light no matter what time of day it was. The room was always comfortably dim, not dark enough to discourage reading, not bright enough to stop someone from napping. Almost every wall was covered by tall bookshelves, which were one of the only things that Rachel had changed. She put her mother’s books back in the library and started her own eclectic collection. A desk made out of red wool occupied the corner next to the other window, one of Rachel’s laptops sat on that desk, but the drawers belonged to her parents. One drawer held roughly a dozen black moleskin notebooks, each notebook filled with poetry and prose that Martha Wayne had written. In another drawer were the letters she had exchanged with Thomas… the ones which Rachel had frequently taken out and held, but had never opened or read.

A third corner was filled by a black grand piano, which Martha had brought with her when she married Thomas. Martha had learned how to play on the ancient instrument and eleven months before her death she’d sat down with Rachel in her lap and started teaching her daughter how to play… roughly two weeks after her parent’s funeral Alfred had found Rachel sitting at the piano, trying to figure out the next song in her workbook. She had never really stopped learning, Rachel could still remember the smile on Alfred face when, on her first day back in Gotham, she’d sat down and started playing, as if she hadn’t been gone for five years.

Without really thinking about what she was doing, Rachel sat down, moved the piano bench forward so she could reach the pedals and pushed back the fall. She didn’t look at the sheets of music on the rack, choosing instead to let her fingers fall randomly over the keys…

Slowly a melody started to emerge. It took Rachel a few seconds before she realized that she was playing Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata. _When did I memorize this?_ She wondered, leaning towards the piano as she played, letting her mind wander wherever the music took her.

Her body rocked slightly to the music, making the necklace that she always wore shift underneath her shirt… despite the warmth of the room and despite the fact that it had been over a year since she’d taken it off, the pendant somehow managed to feel cold against her skin.

“Are you trying to tell me something?” Rachel whispered, as part of her heart wished that he would answer. “Or am I finally going insane?”

She laughed, a desperately strained noise that frightened her. She pulled back from the keys, looking down at her hands and taking several deep breaths to calm her racing heart. As she struggled to regain her composure she looked up at the paper which was sitting on the rack… there were several pages of sheet music, which Rachel could dimly remember printing out before her visit to Metropolis.

She shifted the papers slightly, biting her lip as she started to pick out the notes of the song… lyrics were printed on the sheet music, but she ignored them, playing through the song, making sure that her fingers knew where they were going.

She reached the end of the song and stopped, her fingers resting on the final notes long after the sound died. Her eyes closed, she breathed in and out. With hands shaking ever so slightly she started playing the song again, her eyes opening as she let the music take hold of her. At first her voice was soft, little more then a whisper, but with every word it grew stronger.

 _On a good day, in the morning light  
All the wreckage, is out of sight  
And I know it's gonna be all right  
And I'll get some sleep tonight_

 _On a bad day, I just lock the door  
'Cause you left me, wanting more  
And I wonder what a heart is for  
Baby when it rains, it pours._

Even though he was flying at a relatively slow speed it hadn’t taken long for Superman to reach Gotham… and since he’d done his homework like a good reporter he knew how to find Wayne Manor. The “Ancestral Home of the Wayne Family”, aka 1007 Mountain Drive, was a short but apparently pleasant drive away from Gotham, with the city limits actually running through what was roughly the middle of the property.

The Manor itself was separated from the road and the outside world by an elegant brick gateway and a winding road. Parked outside of the gateway was a small car with a bored looking reporter, who was practically asleep.

 _Someone drew the short straw at the Gotham Gazette…_ Clark thought as he super speeded past the gates, unobserved by the reporter and Rachel Wayne’s impressive security system. Double checking to make sure that no stray gardeners or other servants were around, he landed right in front of the Mansion’s door.

It was one of the few times in his life that Clark Kent had felt completely and utterly ridiculous, standing at the doors of Wayne Manor, ringing the bell while wearing tights and a cape… but he didn’t really have another way of speaking with Rachel Wayne with any sort of privacy. He could always approach her as Clark Kent… but there was still the chance that Batwoman hadn’t informed her employer of Superman’s secret identity.

Before Clark could think about the situation any more, the doors opened, revealing Alfred Pennyworth. If it had been possible Clark would have given the man a raise that very instant… even though he had opened the door to find Superman standing on his doorstep he didn’t blink, or react in any visibly way.

“How may I help you?” Alfred politely inquired.

“I need to speak to Rachel Wayne.” Clark replied, just as politely.

Alfred stepped to one side, allowing Superman to step into the mansion. He closed and locked the door behind him, one hand going to the left of the door and fiddling with an alarm system. “Follow me please.” Alfred said, stepping in front of Clark. Superman followed the Butler through the hallways of Wayne Manor… and was surprised to find that he couldn’t see any other servants. Even using his super-senses, Clark could only detect Alfred and another heartbeat, which he was fairly confident belonged to Rachel Wayne.

…who appeared to be singing, if Clark’s ears weren’t playing tricks on him.

 _No one know the way I feel  
They take me at my word  
Like some kind of man of steel  
A fate I don't deserve_

 _On a good day, I don't come undone  
I just wake up, and call someone  
And I might go out and have some fun  
If anyone's around…_

Alfred stopped before an ordinary pair of double doors, which looked exactly like all the others in the mansion. The butler turned to look at Superman, his eyes sweeping over the hero before he spoke. “Miss Wayne is inside sir.” Alfred inclined his head towards Clark in a sort of half-bow, before he turned away, leaving Superman alone in the hallway.

Slowly, hesitantly, Clark reached out and turned the knob, pushing open one of the double doors. The room beyond was clearly some sort of library or study, the walls were lined with bookshelves and, sitting in front of an elegant black grand piano, was Rachel Wayne. She was wearing blue jeans and a t-shirt which was several sizes too large for. Her feet were bare and she was singing as she played…

 _No one know the way I feel  
They take me at my word  
Like some kind of man of steel  
A fate I don't deserve._

 _On a bad day, all the lights are red  
And there's one voice, in my head  
And I wish those memories were dead  
But I'll cherish them instead…_

Rachel Wayne’s fingers gracefully moved over the keys, the music causing her body to sway gently. She shifted and turned her head slightly, having apparently caught sight of Superman out of the corner of her eye. Rachel’s gaze met Clark’s, but she didn’t say anything… she jut looked back at the sheet music, while something in her pose seemed to say _Wait… wait just a little bit longer._ Superman nodded and stepped into the room, closing the door behind him as Rachel finished her song.

 _I wish those memories were dead  
But I'll cherish them instead …_

The music gracefully trailed off and Clark shifted uncomfortably in the silence that followed… until Rachel broke it. “Hello Superman.” She whispered, a playful smile on her face as she closed the fall, covering the keys before she stood. “To what do I own this visit? I don‘t think I’m falling off a building…”

Clark stared at the Billionaire. Her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, a lock of hair had slipped when she’d turned towards him. Her bare feet were curled up gripping the rug with her toes, one arm was resting on the covered keys, while the other hung at her side, limp. Her shirt was extremely worn out, the letters “MHC” faded almost beyond recognition, while the smaller text surrounding them couldn’t be read at all.

“I wanted to talk to you about Batwoman.” Superman replied.

Rachel blinked, her head tilting to one side. “If you want to talk about Batwoman, then why not go to the Police? Gordon’s got that Bat-Signal after all…”

“I know that you’re her…” Clark searched for the right word. “Her employer.”

Rachel’s entire demeanor shifted, as if she was casting aside a mask. She sighed softly and turned away from Clark, walking over to the sofa and sinking into it’s cushions, as if she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. “So what exactly do you want to talk about?” Rachel asked, gesturing to a nearby armchair.

Superman followed the Princess of Gotham and hesitated for a few seconds before taking the seat that she had offered him. “I want you to… to ask Batwoman to join the League.” Clark paused for a moment to take a deep breath. “I understand that Batwoman… that you two think she can handle herself--- but I though the same thing and look what happened!”

“She doesn’t want to abandon Gotham… she was only in Metropolis for a few days and the criminals of Gotham acted as if she had been gone for _years_.”

“Joining the League doesn’t mean that she’ll be abandoning Gotham!” Superman objected. “I didn’t abandon Metropolis when _I_ joined the League.”

“Yeah, but you are ‘faster then a speeding bullet’.” Rachel replied, a mocking tone creeping into her voice.

“We have a teleport system. It only take a few seconds now.”

Rachel sighed, her eyes shifting away from Superman, although they didn’t seem to be focusing on anything. “I… I’ll ask her.”

“Thank you.” Clark sighed in relief, a smile growing on his face.

“If she agrees…” Rachel bit her lip as she thought. “She’ll meet you on top of Wayne Enterprises, three days from now…” She hesitated for a moment. “Around eleven pm.”

“August 17th, Wayne Enterprises, eleven pm.” Clark repeated, standing up. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” She replied as Clark headed towards the doors. “Superman!”

He stopped and turned around, looking back at Rachel Wayne. She was curled up at one end of the couch, and looked heartbreakingly young… and lost. “Batwoman… she knows who you are.” She paused as Clark felt his heart leap up into his throat. “But she didn’t tell me… and she’s not going to tell anyone else.”

Clark smiled softly. “Thank you.” He replied. “I’ll make sure the League leaves the mater of her identity alone.”

“Go right, you’ll see a door to a patio, just close it behind you.”

Clark nodded and left the room. Once he was out on to the patio he took off, heading back towards Metropolis. He needed to contact the Justice League, to inform them that Batwoman was coming to take a look at the Watchtower __

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes:  
> The Shakespeare bust is a reference to the cheesy old Batman TV-show... which was my first exposure to Batman. My brother rented the movie a lot when we were younger and I'd watch it with him.
> 
> The song that Rachel plays is called “On A Good Day” by Jude Johnstone, who just happens to be the mother of one of my best friends. I highly recommend the album this song is on (also called “On A Good Day“). My favorite song of her’s is “20 Years”, although “On A Good Day” is a close second.
> 
> "1007 Mountain Drive" is give as the address for Wayne Manor in Batman: The Animated Series (In the episode "The Demon's Quest")
> 
> The shirt which Rachel Wayne is wearing (with MHC written on it) is based off a shirt I own and frequently wear as my "relaxing" shirt. MHC stands for "Mount Holyoke College", an all woman's college which I attend and which I have decided Rachel Wayne attended.


	12. Revocate Animos

  
  
_  
**Revocate Animos = Latin for “Recover Your Courage”**   
_   


When Rachel Wayne had looked away from the sheet music and found Superman standing in her doorway it had taken every trick of bodily control that Rachel knew to keep from reacting to his presence. Fooling normal people weren’t a problem, the League of Shadows had taught her well… but fooling Superman was a completely different thing. The hardest thing to fake was your body’s rhythm, the way that your heart sped up if you were scared… or lying.

She’d finished playing the song, hoping that the music would cover her first, unsuccessful attempts to control her heartbeat. When she ran out of music Rachel let the silence wash over the two of them, drawing comfort from the fact that Superman appeared to be waiting for her to make the first move.

“Hello Superman.” She whispered, looking over at the man in blue tights. She allowed a playful smile to grow on her face as she covered the keys. “To what do I own this visit?” She asked as she stood and moved away from the piano. “I don’t think I’m falling off a building…”

She could feel that Clark was staring at her and resisted the urge to fidget. “I wanted to talk to you about Batwoman.” Superman finally replied.

Rachel blinked, put on her best “confused” face and tilted her head to one side. The movements felt robotic, but hopefully they looked natural to the Man of Steel. “If you want to talk about Batwoman, then why not go to the Police? Gordon’s got that Bat-Signal after all…”

“I know that you’re her….” Rachel Wayne froze when Clark hesitated, Batwoman stepped in to keep up the mask. “Her employer.” Clark added and internally Rachel sighed in relief. She stepped forward, giving Batwoman what help she could. To Clark the shifting in Rachel’s psyche probably looked like she’d decided to stop lying… hopefully he couldn’t see the mask that Rachel was still holding up to her face.

Her leg hurt, she needed to sit down before it started affecting her posture. As calmly as she could Rachel walked over to the sofa and sank down into the sofa’s cushions. “So what exactly do you want to talk about?” She asked, offering Clark the armchair.

Superman hesitated for a few seconds, before taking Rachel up on her offer. “I want you to… to ask Batwoman to join the League.” Clark hesitated, drawing in a deep breath. “I understand that Batwoman… that you think she can handle herself--- but I thought the same thing and look what happened!”

Rachel shifted slightly, pulling her legs closer to her body. It was an unconscious movement, her mind was focused on figuring out the right thing to say. “She doesn’t want to abandon Gotham… she was only in Metropolis for a few days and the criminals of Gotham acted as if she had been gone for _years_.”

It was difficult, extremely difficult, to tell the truth while pretending that she financed Batwoman. Rachel was so used to pretending that she had no knowledge of the “Dark Knight” that it was hard to stop…

“Joining the League doesn’t mean that she’ll be abandoning Gotham!” Superman leaned forward as he spoke, his eyes seemed to sparkle in the light from the windows. “I didn’t abandon Metropolis when _I_ joined the League.”

“Yeah,” Rachel replied, a small smirk growing on her face. “But you are ‘faster then a speeding bullet’.”

“We have a teleport system.” Clark explained and Rachel did her best to look surprised. “It only takes a few seconds now.”

When Rachel had hacked into the Justice League’s computer systems she’d been enthralled by the teleport system. It was a beautiful piece of technology, cobbled together from extremely advanced Earth tech (courtesy of Ollie), Kryptonian technology (from Superman of course) and what Rachel believed to be Martian technology.

Rachel sighed, shifting her eyes away from Superman. For some reason it took a lot of willpower to keep her eyes off the hidden elevator which lead to the cave. “I…” the stammer wasn’t fake, much to Rachel’s annoyance. “I’ll ask her.”

“Thank you.” Clark’s smile was dazzling and he was clearly relieved.

“If she agrees…” Rachel bit her lip as she ran through her options, quickly making decisions which she hoped were the right ones. “She’ll meet you on top of Wayne Enterprises, three days from now.” Again she hesitated, trying to determine how long a patrol of Gotham would take her. “Around eleven pm.”

“August 17th, Wayne Enterprises, eleven pm.” The Man Of Steel parroted back as he stood up. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” The response was natural and (to Rachel’s ears) sounded too similar to her “Batwoman voice”… but Superman didn’t seem to catch Rachel’s slip.

“Superman!” The word was out before Rachel really knew why she was stopping the hero from leaving. He stopped, turning slowly to look at Rachel. “Batwoman… she knows who you are.” That was simple, it wasn’t a lie… and if Rachel Wayne and Batwoman had really been two separate people then the next words out of her mouth would have been truthful. “But she didn’t tell me… and she’s not going to tell anyone else.”

If Rachel Wayne and Batwoman had been two separate people, if Rachel Wayne was only the financial support behind the Dark Knight… then Batwoman would not have told Rachel Wayne that Superman was actually Clark Kent, reporter for the Daily Planet.

“Thank you.” Clark’s smile was heartbreakingly sweet and innocent. “I’ll make sure the League leaves the matter of her identity alone.” Superman’s gaze shifted and somehow Rachel could tell that he was worried about finding his way out of the Manor.

She decided to help him out. “Go right, you’ll see a door to the patio, just close it behind you.”

Clark nodded before leaving the room, and despite having no proof… somehow Rachel felt as if she knew the exact moment that Superman flew away from her home. She desperately wanted to allow herself to freak out… but Rachel forced herself to be logical, to start planning her next move.

She had three days. Three days to prepare herself to meet the Justice League… and most importantly she had three days to revaluate her theories on the Man of Steel.

Rachel had expected that Superman would visit Gotham at night, she’d counted on him showing up while Batwoman was fighting criminals. She’d expected him to help her fight said criminals, then follow her to a rooftop where they wouldn’t be overheard. Then he would confront Batwoman with the knowledge of her employer’s identity. Batwoman would be angry and put on a small show… but eventually “admit” that Clark was “right”.

Then Superman would ask her to think about joining the Justice League, offering her a tour of the Watchtower. Batwoman would ask for some time to think on the matter, arranging a meeting in a few days… and then she’d do exactly what she was going to do now.

Batwoman hadn’t thought that Superman would contact Rachel Wayne… she’d believed that the only reason Superman would step into Rachel’s world was if he knew who she really was. When Rachel had seen Superman in her home she’d expected the first words out of her mouth to be something along the lines of “You’re Batwoman!” and had been prepared to explain herself to the Last Son of Krypton… but then he’d started talking.

To be fair, Rachel Wayne employing some unknown woman to be Batwoman made sense… or to be more specific it made what Rachel had started to refer to as “superhero sense”. The idea of Rachel Wayne, Billionaire, running around Gotham and kicking criminals in the nuts was… well it was a little hard for your average person, superhero or not, to believe.

Rachel was relieved that Clark had believed her cover story… it was easiest to lie when your lies were small distortions of the truth. Rachel Wayne _was_ financing Batwoman’s activities… she just also happened to be Batwoman.

But there was still a problem, still a concern. Superman clearly didn’t think that an “ordinary” human could be a challenge or a danger to him. If Rachel had been in his shoes, then she would have scanned the entire room with x-ray vision before she even walked in. A quick glance would have revealed lead, which would have indicated a hidden chunk kryptonite. If you were weak against something then you should always be looking for it.

That same glance would have most likely revealed the bandages on her leg, the scars and bruises all over her body… and the necklace, which Clark might have seen Batwoman wearing. He probably didn’t know enough about the criminal underworld to understand the necklace’s real significance.

But in reality none of that really mattered… Superman had come and gone. As far as Rachel could tell he still believed that she was Rachel’s patron. What mattered was that in three days Batwoman would be meeting Superman on top of Wayne Enterprises. In three days Rachel would be touring the Watchtower and, most likely, joining the Justice League… at least on a semi-official basis.

She needed to hack into the Justice League’s systems once again, needed to set up lines of communication. Batwoman would need a way to be contacted by the League and Alfred would need a way to contact Batwoman while she was on the Watchtower. She needed to get started on those lines of communication soon, after all she only had three days…

Rachel took a deep breath. She knew how to fix her communication problems, it was just a matter of spending an hour or two on the Cave’s computers. She had more then enough time to do that in the next three days. Right now… well she’d processed all the data that she’d received. She already had everything mentally filed away, for use at a later time, when new information might arise. She’d done as much Batwoman work as she could… and now she desperately needed to let Rachel Wayne take control.

Her interaction with Superman… that is to say Rachel Wayne’s interactions with Superman, had done something which all the villains of Gotham hadn’t been able to do in the two years that she’d been fighting crime in her beloved city.

For reasons that she couldn’t quite put her finger on, Rachel Wayne, Batwoman, the feared Dark Knight of Gotham… was scared.

Really and truly scared.

And Rachel hadn’t truly been scared since… she flinched and, abandoning any attempt to control herself, curled into a tight ball, her entire body shaking. A memory echoed in her head, words which had been spoken a little more then one year ago.

 _And you know the best part? Today’s my birthday._

“No…” She whispered, covering her ears, as if her hands could black out the words, block out the memories.

 _  
**Rachel…**   
_

“No.” Rachel whispered. “I won’t let you keep doing this to me!”

Her hands grabbed the necklace and she pulled, causing the chain to bite into her neck. She wanted to rip the damn thing off and throw it away… but she couldn’t.

The damn necklace was all she had left of him.

Slowly Rachel released her grip on the pendant, allowing it to fall back to it’s normal resting place… right above her heart, which was still pounding. She stood up and moved over to her bookshelves, her hands running along the spine of the books. It took her a little longer then usual, since her vision was still blurred by tears she had to find what she was looking for by touch.

The door opened behind her as she pulled the book out and cracked it open, slowly leafing through the pages. Without looking she could tell that Alfred was standing just inside the study, looking at her. Rachel leaned against the bookcase, turning slightly so that she could see her butler, her oldest friend, her honorary father.

“Nothing is predetermined; it is determined, or was determined, or will be determined.” Rachel read aloud.

“What do you expect me to say?” Alfred asked, stepping into the room and closing the door behind them, even though they were alone in the Manor.

“Nothing Alfred.” She replied, closing the book and all but slamming it back into place on the bookshelf. “There are times when reading that… it helps me.” She sighed, resting her hand on the spines of the books on her shelf. “…justice becomes apparent not as something that will be, but as something that is.” She quoted from memory.

“I’m assuming that Superman is the cause of your current philosophical musings?”

“Three days.”

“Till?”

“Superman gives Batwoman a tour of the Watchtower.” Rachel replied. “Oh, Superman ‘knows’ that I’m Batwoman’s financial backer.” She added with a smile.

“Will you be joining the League?”

“Most likely… I’ll have to see how the other members react to me.” Rachel sighed as she reached back and re-did her ponytail. “First I need to insure that you can reach me when I’m on the Watchtower… and set up a way for the League to contact me if I do join.”

Alfred reached over and pressed the hidden buttons on the bust of Shakespeare, causing the center bookcase to swing to one side, revealing a small elevator which Billionaire and Butler stepped in to.

“The League has their own communication devices, with several channels. We’ll borrow one of those channels, using voice modification on your end, of course.”

“Of course.” Alfred agreed as the bookcase door closed and the elevator started to descend.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Thankfully Gotham quieted down over the three days between Superman’s appearance at Wayne Manor and the night that Batwoman and Superman were scheduled to meet on top of Wayne Enterprises. Rachel’s beloved city was back in it’s normal routine and the major criminals were all locked up in Arkham. They’d most likely stay put for a while, waiting for the Joker to his move. The only people who believed that the Clown Prince of Crime had actually died in Metropolis were the poor gullible people who lived in Superman’s city. Everyone in Gotham, from criminals to normal citizens, from the police to Batwoman, knew that it was only a matter of time before the Joker returned.

August 17th was dark, the kind of day when the sun never really breaks free of the clouds. It had been raining on and off, but when the sun set the clouds had retreated somewhat, leaving vast stretches of open sky. Rachel had left Wayne Manor as the sun set, racing towards Gotham in the Tumbler. She’d started her usual patrol of Gotham earlier then normal, hoping that her presence would scare the criminals of Gotham into closing up shop early. The last thing she needed was for a crisis to occur while she was in the Watchtower… with her luck the Justice League would want to come back to Gotham with her and “help out”.

When she’d finished her patrol Batwoman stashed the Tumbler in a sort of mini-cave that Alfred had only recently finished setting up. Alfred and Lucius had designed the new “cave” as a backup and refueling station. Usually Batwoman used the new Cave if she needed to re-stock her belt while she was downtown, or if anything happened to the Tumbler or the Batpod. There was also an extensive medical kit, as well as a change of clothes and the sort of car that Rachel Wayne would drive.

Rachel locked up the new Cave (Alfred had yet to refer to it as anything other then “the new Cave” so it remained nameless) and started making her way to Wayne Enterprises in the usual way: jumping across rooftops, swinging from her grappling hook and gliding with her cape. The building wasn’t too far from the new Cave, which gave Rachel enough time to pass through Old Gotham, where Gotham’s Police Headquarters was located. She stopped on a nearby rooftop and watched as Gordon walked across a mostly empty parking lot to his beat up car.

When Batwoman was sure the Gordon was safely on his way home Rachel took off once more, going out of her way so that she didn’t have to pass over Crime Alley. As she climbed to the top of her company’s headquarters she checked in with Alfred, making sure that the voice modification system was working.

By the time that Batwoman reached the roof of Wayne Enterprises it was only 10:30, a full half-hour before she was scheduled to meet Superman.

Even though Clark Kent had never actually been a member of the Boy Scouts (Rachel had checked… in fact she’d triple-checked) Superman acted like one… helping little old ladies across the street and rescuing kittens out of trees. Clark would show up early, but not excessively so. He would, most likely, arrive five or ten minutes early… and Batwoman was certain (that is to say as certain as she _could_ be) that Superman would be flying in, not using the teleportation system which would enable the two of them to visit the Watchtower.

Sure enough, exactly nine minutes before the Clocktower in Old Gotham was due to strike eleven, Superman emerged from the cloud cover. The Last Son of Krypton landed on the roof of Wayne Enterprises… without even looking around. He was facing away from the center of the roof (where Rachel was lurking in the shadows) when he landed and he continued to look out at Gotham, obviously searching the skyline for any sign of Batwoman.

Rachel fought the urge to start berating Clark for being an idiot. She had no intentions of hurting Superman, but he couldn’t have know that. It would have been all too easy to put some kryptonite on the building, hidden inside a lead box. Batwoman could have whipped up such a trap in less then an hour… and she’d been given three days to set a trap for the Man of Steel.

Superman should have scanned the rooftop when he landed… just like he should have scanned Rachel’s study. But instead the big idiot had just landed on the building with his back exposed to the majority of the rooftop and kept his back turned as he gazed out at the city.

Batwoman stayed hidden in the shadows for a little while longer, taking a long look at Superman. Once Batwoman had decided that she’d made Clark wait long enough she stepped forward, her footsteps silent, despite the concrete she was walking on. Even with her silent movement… Clark should have known that Batwoman was there and Rachel half-expected that he would turn around and greet her before she could “surprise” him.

“You really should learn to mind your surroundings.” Batwoman said as she stepped out of the shadows. Clark made a soft sort of surprised squeak and whipped around at what had to be super-speed… Rachel was fairly certain that only Superman’s ability to fly kept him from falling over.

“I… I didn’t know you were there!” Superman stammered. “I mean… I didn’t see you.”

“You didn’t look.” Batwoman replied, giving Clark a slight shrug of her shoulders. “I’ll listen to your speech and take the tour…” She stepped closer to Superman, leaning towards him in order to make Clark uncomfortable… as she lowered her voice to a growl. “But in return you and the League only come to Gotham if _I_ call you in.”

Clark actually _gulped_. “I hope I haven’t…” he trailed off, his face growing pale. “I didn’t mean to insult you!”

“You haven’t.” Batwoman smirked. “ _Trust me_ , you’ll know if I’m insulted. Now… don’t you have a space station to show me?”

Clark breathed in and out a few times, doing his best to gather his composure as he nodded. “Just a second…” he raised on hand to his ear, pressing a button on the small com link which rested there. “Watchtower, we’re ready to beam up.”

Teleporting from Earth to the Watchtower felt like riding an extremely fast elevator. She could almost feel herself being pulled up, but the feeling only lasted for a few seconds as a bright white light surrounded her. Batwoman blinked and found that she and Superman were standing in front of a large control panel, made up of numerous computers and monitors of various sizes.

Standing at one of the keypads was J’onn J’onzz, the alien better known as the Martian Manhunter. He straightened up from the keyboard and walked towards them, stopping a polite distance from Batwoman and Superman.

“Batwoman, J’onn J’onzz.” Superman said after clearing his throat nervously.

“Welcome to the Watchtower Batwoman.” J’onn said, inclining his head slightly in greeting, a gesture which Batwoman returned. “the others have just returned from a mission, they should be heading to this level.” J’onn looked at Superman as he spoke.

Before Superman could reply Batwoman heard the sound of an elevator and turned towards the opening doors. She remained silent as the remaining four founders of the Justice League stepped out of the elevator… Wonder Man, Green Lantern, Hawkman and the Flash. One final hero stepped out of the elevator and stood next to the Flash… Green Arrow, who seemed extremely annoyed.

Rachel made a very clear inspection of each hero, speeding a little extra time on Green Arrow before she turned away from the group, moving towards the computers and looking over the various readouts.

“Impressive isn’t it?” Ollie asked as he stepped away from the rest of the Justice League. Green Arrow walked forward until he was just behind Batwoman, standing a little closer then was really polite or necessary. “This is what you can do when you’re with a team.” He reached around Batwoman, pressing a series of buttons.

There was a soft groaning sound as the protective covers over the windows opened, revealing what had appeared to be a large screen was actually a window. Sunlight spilled into the room and an amazing view of the earth appeared… a view which never failed to take Superman’s breath away, no matter how many times he saw it.

But Batwoman didn’t react, as if she wasn’t impressed by the view, even though this was obviously the first time she’d been in space… despite the awe that the sight no doubt invoked in her she’d managed to stop herself from reacting to Ollie’s taunts.

Batwoman turned slowly, so that she was facing the Justice League. Her stance was such that her black cape closed around her and even in the light of the sun she seemed to turn into some sort of shadow… Clark was willing to admit that it was actually quite spooky.

“I’ve been monitoring your operation since you started construction.” She said, a smirk on her face as the members of the League’s eyes went wide. She moved her arms, her cape exaggerating the gesture and parting to reveal her pressing a button on a small bit of tech attached to her belt. “And I’ve been hacking your systems since they came online…”

The screens around her, which had been displaying various information, mostly the status of League Members, turned black, before a symbol appeared on each and every single one of them a stylized black bat in a circle of white… the same symbol that the Gotham Police had placed on a searchlight, the same searchlight which the press had started calling “the Batsignal”.

“I’ve made a few improvements…” Batwoman added as the screens changed display, each screen pointing out the ‘improvements’ which the Dark Knight had made. No one in the League spoke, each one struck dumb by the Batwoman’s display of ability. Not a single member moved as Batwoman slowly walked forward, heading towards Superman. She stopped right in front of the Last Son of Krypton.

“You’ve put together quite an operation… when you need me---” she turned to look at the rest of the League, her gaze resting mostly on Green Arrow. “And you _will_ need me, call. I’ll answer.”

The images on the screens shifted again, displaying the “dialing system” though which the hero on Watchtower duty could contact any and every member of the League… the members could clearly see that Batwoman had been added to the list.

She looked back at Superman, nodding her head once, before she stepped past him, her cape trailing behind her. “Watchtower - return trip.” She said, not turning to look at Superman or the other members of the League, who were all looking at her.

There was a flash of light, which the Justice League all knew was a byproduct of their teleporter… and the Batwoman was gone.

Silence reigned in the Watchtower… J’onn was the first to move, walking over to the monitors, where the screens had shifted back to displaying the list of changes which the Batwoman had made to the Watchtower.

“ _When_ we need her?” Ollie growled.

“Green Arrow, these changes have greatly improved our security.” J’onn replied. “She has fixed holes which would have compromised all of us, as well as making our operating systems more user friendly.”

“Ollie, she’s one of the good guys.” Clark sighed. “She saved my life form the Joker! Batwoman didn’t even tell her financial backer my secret identity, let alone _send_ anything to me with a card that said ‘for Superman’!”

“So I take it you don’t like the Chuck Norris PJs?” Ollie asked, smirking at the exasperated sigh which his remark got from Clark.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The teleport system returned Batwoman to the roof of Wayne Enterprises… and as soon as she was sure it was safe to move Rachel was running… heading straight to the edge of the roof she leaped off of her Family’s company, using her cape to control her glide down and around the building. She landed on a smaller structure nearby and hide herself in the shadows, scanning the skies and the Justice League’s communication channels to see if any member of the League had followed her back to Gotham.

Once Batwoman was satisfied that no heroes had followed her home she contacted Alfred. “Anything happen while I was away?”

“Just your usual drunk driving stops and teenagers who think they can avoid Gotham’s finest.” Alfred replied. “The League appears to be shaken by your actions, but I believe that they will accept your membership without much…” he trailed off.

“What happened?” Batwoman asked as she landed by one of the secret entrances to the new Cave and headed inside. She needed to pick up the Tumbler so she could get back to the main Cave.

“You’ve received a message from the League, through the system you put in place.” Alfred explained. Rachel swore that she could hear his fingers flying over the computer system that she’d installed in the Cave. “It is from the Martian Manhunter… you are now considered a member of the Justice League and shall be contacted when your services are required.”

Rachel couldn’t stop herself from smiling as she climbed into the Tumbler and started racing through the mostly deserted streets of Gotham. “Lucky me.”

“He also thanks you for the upgrades to the Watchtower, and hopes that you will be able to provide technological assistance in the future. Should I reply?”

“I’ll reply when I get back.” She replied, her eyes moving towards her rearview mirror, which was actually camera in the back of the Tumbler. “You can log out Alfred, I’ll be back in a few minutes… I’ve just got to lose the Gazette’s reporter.”

An unmarked car was chasing the Tumbler… for the past few months the _Gotham Gazette_ had been trying to unmask her. For some reason they’d decided the best way to do this was to drive around Gotham and chase the Tumbler or Batpod. It was actually quite amusing, since both the Tumbler and the Batpod could go from zero to sixty in under six seconds, and the reporters were all using their personal cars to try and chase her.

Rachel almost felt sorry for the reporter, since he’d probably drawn the short straw… only two jobs were regularly assigned by straw drawing: chasing Batwoman and waiting outside of the Wayne Mansion. But “almost” feeling sorry didn’t stop Batwoman from cackling as the Tumbler dashed forward, leaving the unfortunate reporter in the dust.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 _ **From:** Martian Manhunter  
 **To:** Batwoman  
 **Subject:** League Membership  
 **Date:** Sunday, August 17, 2014 12:15 am_

 _You are now considered a full member of the Justice League. In the event that your services are required we shall contact you via the lines of communication that you have established._

 _We have also agreed that Gotham shall be considered your area of operation, and no member of the League shall enter unless you request assistance._

 _I also wish to thank you for the upgrades to the Watchtower’s systems and express hope that you will be able to provide technological assistance in the future._

 _I hope that you will believe my promise not to investigate your identity, despite my abilities._

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 _ **From:** Batwoman  
 **To:** Martian Manhunter  
 **Subject:** RE: League Membership  
 **Date:** Sunday, August 17, 2014 12:55 am_

 _Message received._

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 __  
__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes:
> 
> “Nothing is predetermined; it is determined, or was determined, or will be determined.” is a quote from Winter’s Tale by Mark Helprin. A book which I highly recommend.
> 
> “…justice becomes apparent not as something that will be, but as something that is.” is a quote from a short essay by Mark Helprin which can be found at the following website: http://www.yuni.com/library/docs/648.html
> 
> Rachel’s “superhero sense” = comic book logic. Because Batman/Batwoman would totally understand that when it comes to superheroes you have to use a different sort of logic.


	13. Lex Non Scripta

  
  
_  
**Lex Non Scripta = Latin for “ The Unwritten Law”**   
_   


The Cathedral of Saint Christina was one of the oldest buildings in Gotham. The house of worship had gone through several periods of decline, but during each period someone (frequently a member of the Wayne Family) would step in and restore the Cathedral. Thomas and Martha Wayne had been married in the Cathedral. Rachel had been baptized by Father Peter Ivanov… the same priest who would later conduct her parents’ funeral.

Batwoman was using a gargoyle on the Cathedral as a temporary resting place, the wind causing her black cape to swirl around her as she was washed by the rain. It had started raining at sunrise on the day after she’d joined the Justice League, and it had yet to stop. For three nights Batwoman had returned to the Cave dripping wet… and her days (while they were spent indoors) had only been slightly more enjoyable.

Doctor Kirk Langstrom had been one of Wayne Enterprises’ most talented and promising researchers. He’d helped develop the technology behind Batwoamn’s echolocation goggles. Langstrom had been working on using the science behind a Bat’s sonar to help the deaf… his work had _appeared_ extremely promising.

But then two things had happened. First Langstrom had become obsessed with Batwoman… _extremely_ obsessed. A junior researcher had complained that Langstrom had verbally abused and threatened her after the he’d made a negative comment about Batwoman. Then Kirk had actually shown up at a crime scene with a dozen black roses.

When he’d seen Batwoman handing the crooks over to Commissioner Gordon and his officers Langstrom had thrown the flowers at Batwoman and started sobbing. Despite the numerous photographs and film that had been taken of the Dark Knight, Langstrom had thought that she was actually some sort of half-woman, half-bat creature. He’d run off before the Police could identify him, leaving behind a dozen damaged roses, several confused Police Officers and one extremely disturbed Dark Knight.

As soon as Batwoman was inside the Tumbler, Rachel called Lucius and asked him to take a look at Langstrom’s work… it turned out that all the progress reports had been faked. Instead of researching sonar Kirk had been playing around with dangerous (and extremely expensive) chemicals. The end result had been some sort of toxic brown sludge, whose only recognizable ingredient had been Bat DNA. Lucius was fairly certain that Langstrom had actually been _drinking_ the stuff, which Rachel believed might account for some of the man’s problems.

Wayne Enterprises had fired Kirk Langstrom. Rachel hadn’t been surprised when Lucius told her that he’d forced to call Security to escort Langstrom out of the building. The scientist had been committed to Arkham a few days later.

The Joker had yet to make his public return to Gotham and Harley Quinn was still locked up inside Arkham. In fact the majority of the “big names’ were locked up, with only Two-Face and Catwoman still at large. The two seemed to be lying low, waiting for the joker to make his move. The everyday criminals of Gotham weren’t that much trouble for the Dark Knight… there were just a lot of them. Batwoman had spent the three nights since she’d joined the League battling small time crooks. The purse snatchers, burglars, shoplifters and all the other criminals in Gotham who weren’t connected to one of the big names were trying to grab as much money as they could.

So every night Batwoman had been getting very little sleep and spending a lot of time running around in the rain… while the Batsuit did provide her with fairly adequate protection from the wind and rain, it wasn’t perfect. Alfred was doing his best to help out, making sure that when Batwoman returned home from patrol there was always a warm bath, nice dry clothing and a hot bowl of miso soup. (Ever since she’d gotten her wisdom teeth removed Rachel couldn’t stand the taste of chicken soup.)

Batwoman _really_ didn’t want to get sick… getting sick meant that Alfred would keep her (or at least do his best to keep her) from going out and protecting her city. She couldn’t really blame the man, after all the last time she’d gotten sick it… well it hadn’t ended well. Rachel had caught a small seasonal flu which had been going around Wayne Enterprises and she hadn’t taken enough time off to recover from it… in fact she hadn’t taken _any_ time off.

Instead Batwoman had stubbornly refused to believe that she was sick… until one night when she returned to the cave, climbed out of the Tumbler and collapsed. She’d ended up lying in bed for four days, slipping in and out of consciousness. It had been almost impossible for Alfred to get her to eat or drink anything during the rare moments that she was conscious… even when Rachel had technically been “awake” she hadn’t been aware of what was going on around her. Those four days had been like one long dream… a _really_ weird long dream.

When she finally woke up and recovered from her cold Rachel had forgotten most of the dreams she’d experienced over those four days. Occasionally (mostly when she was running on too much coffee and too little sleep) she would remember bits and pieces. For example Mister Freeze had been in her dream… or a least a man she _thought_ was Mister Freeze. There had been this guy (who looked like a cross between Mister Freeze and the Governor of California) walking around an abandoned ice cream factory. He’d been wearing a silvery-blue bathrobe and fuzzy slippers shaped like polar bears. Minions, who looked like hockey players, had been all around him, shivering in the cold air. The man had been making the minions sing the Snow Miser Song from the old Christmas Special _A Year Without A Santa Claus_. (Which Alfred had made Rachel watch once when she was ten or eleven.)

But that hadn’t even been the strangest part of the fever dream that Batwoman had remembered… the weirdest thing she’d seen had actually made her seriously think (for all of three minutes) about seeking psychiatric help… that thing was the _Bat Credit Card_.

The Dark Knight shuddered as she struggled to get her mind back on track. She looked out at the Gotham skyline, watching as mot of the lights in the buildings were turned off for the night. Her mind was wandering more then usual, which couldn’t be a good sign. She should probably go back to the Manor and sleep… to be honest she could use the extra rest.

Batwoman was pulled out of her thoughts by the sound of the Cathedral’s bells, which had just begun tolling out the hour. She silently counted, even though she had a watch on her belt. Just as the bells finished, revealing that it was midnight, the night sky was suddenly lit up by the Batsignal.

“Looks like I can’t go to sleep just yet…” Batwoman sighed, pressing a button on her belt before she stood up, easily finding her balance despite how narrow the gargoyle was and how slippery the rain had made the stone. She paused for a moment before leaping off, her cape spreading out behind her and slowing her fall so that she landed gracefully and softly next to the Tumbler, which she’d already unlocked and started remotely.

The Cathedral was only a few blocks away from Police Headquarters. In what seemed like a blink of an eye Batwoman had arrived and was making her way up to the roof, leaving the Tumbler in an alley far below. When she reached said roof Batwoman couldn’t help but smirk… standing in the rain, without an umbrella or raincoat, was Police Commissioner James W. Gordon. Jim was smart, that was one of the reasons that Batwoman liked him. The Commissioner was waiting on the roof of Police Headquarters, in the pouring rain, waiting for her to appear… and he had the sense to keep his back against a wall and his hand next to his gun. Other detectives and officers would often leave their backs exposed or just stand in the center of the roof, staring up at the sky as if the Dark Knight was going to come flying in like Superman.

Batwoman landed silently on the roof and emerged from the shadows, stopping just next to the illuminated Batsignal. She made no move to turn the searchlight off, allowing her cape to close around her as Gordon approached her, holding a small plastic evidence bag in his left hand.

“This just arrived.” Jim explained, holing out the bag, which Batwoman took form him. “Maybe you should think about getting an address, or at least a PO Box.”

The evidence bag contained two objects. The first was a plain white envelope, with “Batwoman (c/o Gordon) written on it in what appeared to be a purple crayon. The other item was a single playing card… a joker. Batwoman recognized the design, it was the same as the other cards which the Joker had left at crime scenes or sent to the police. Scrawled on the front of the card was a broken heart, which had been drawn in purple crayon. Separating the two halves of the heart was a jagged line which was a dull red color… it didn’t look like any sort of ink, crayon or pencil that Batwoman had ever seen.

“Blood?” She asked, handing the evidence bag back to Gordon.

“We’re running DNA.” Jim replied. “Any ideas what it means?”

“Looks like the Joker’s decided to come back to life.” Batwoman replied. “My guess is that he blames the owner of the blood for something… he’s probably going to try and take revenge.”

“We’ll arrange for protective custody.” Gordon replied, turning slightly to look over at the Batsignal. “I heard you were in Metropolis.”

“I was just following the Joker.” Batwoman replied as the rooftop access door opened and a young woman, who looked like a lab tech, stepped out into the downpour and hurried over to Gordon.

“Commissioner! We got a hit on the DNA…” She stood next to Jim and Batwoman, but didn’t visibly react to the Dark Knight’s presence. “It’s Harleen Qinzel.”

“But why would the Joker target her?” Gordon asked, his gaze moving back to Batwoman.

“Because she made Rachel Wayne fall off a building in Metropolis…” Batwoman growled. “Wayne would have died if Superman hadn’t been in the neighborhood.”

She turned away from Gordon and headed towards the edge of the roof. The Commissioner was already moving, already reacting. “Call Arkham!” He ordered as the Lab Tech turned off the Batsignal. Jim was already halfway to the stairs and pulling a radio out of his trench coat pocket when the Dark Knight leapt off the roof.

When Ra’s Al Ghul and the League of Shadows attacked the Narrows Arkham Asylum had been pretty much destroyed. Instead of rebuilding the Asylum had been relocated to a small island in Gotham Bay, where the Arkham Family’s mansion and the original Arkham Asylum was located. The original Arkham had been expanded and updated. It was larger then the Asylum in the Narrows and more removed from the general population. Now the Asylum was harder to escape from, with access to the island restricted to a single drawbridge, which could only be lowered from the mainland.

Quincy Sharp had become the Asylum’s new Warden… Batwoman didn’t like the man, although she couldn’t quite put her finger on why that was. It certainly didn’t help that he was against Batwoman’s involvement at the Asylum, which she honestly did try to keep to a minimum. The only time that Batwoman had entered the Asylum (apart from when she was there to return a criminal) was when the Joker had kidnapped a guard and threatened to kill the man if the Dark Knight didn’t pay him a visit.

That had been a strange night. The Joker and Batwoman had sat on the roof of Arkham’s medical wing and eaten Chinese food. Rachel’s fortune cookie had read “ _The principle part of faith is patience._ ” The Joker’s had been slightly more disturbing… “ _Society prepares the crime, the criminal then commits it._ ”

After the two had finished the food and the fortune cookies the Joker had deposited a small pile of improvised and smuggled in knives at Batwoman’s feet, like a cat leaving a dead bird at it’s owner’s feet. He’d allowed the Dark Knight to return him to his cell… and the next time the Joker broke out of Arkham he’d done so quietly, without killing or even maiming one guard. He’d also left a small mountain of fortune cookies next to the Batsignal, with a small sign which read “ _For Batsie_ ”

The criminals which Batwoman dealt with, the ones which the papers called her “Rouge’s Gallery” were housed in a separate wing from the general population. Their section of the Asylum was officially called the “Intensive Treatment Unit”. The cells in the unit were designed not only to contain Batwoman’s enemies, but to help keep them calm… for example Poison Ivy’s cell was specially built to keep her pheromones from effecting guards and it also had an area for her to grow (small) plants.

Thanks to Gordon calling ahead the drawbridge was lowered as soon as the Tumbler approached. Soon Batwoman was parking her car in front of Arkham’s main building and climbing out. There were several guards waiting for her… Guards assigned to the Intensive Treatment Unit tended not to last too long… in fact the only one that Batwoman recognized was Aaron Cash. Aaron had worked at Arkham when it had been located in the Narrows. He’d been one of the few good guards, one who wasn’t corrupt and didn’t beat the inmates up for amusement. He’d been on shift during Ra’s Al Ghul’s attack and had not only managed to survive, but he’d returned to work at the new Asylum and _requested_ to be assigned to the Intensive Treatment Unit.

Cash was one of, it not the only, guard that the Joker didn’t try to kill on a regular basis… the “relationship” between the two men reminded Batwoman of Hannibal Lecter and Barney. There had been several times when, while he was escaping Arkham, the Joker had left Aaron alive and well… even though he’d killed numerous guards. The Joker had even pushed Cash out of the way when one of his escapes had made part of the building collapse.

Batwoman ignored the other guards, silently passing them as the Tumbler locked and engaged it’s self-defenses… if anyone tried to touch her car they’d get a mild, yet painful, electric shock, one a little stronger then the shock someone would get if they tried to remove her mask. Batwoman nodded in silent greeting to Cash, so fell into step beside her.

“We’ve started a round the clock watch on her cell, two men at all times. They‘re carrying and authorized to use deadly force.” Aaron explained as they entered the Asylum. “She thinks that the Joker’s coming to bust her out.”

“So she’ll be trying to help him.” Batwoman sighed as the three bypassed the usual security scan and entered the Intensive Treatment Unit. The unit was shaped like a Y with two blocks (one for the male and one for the female inmates) branching off of the main security area.

Batwoman and Aaron turned to the right and headed down the Women’s block. While the Men’s block was mostly full (there was actually some talk of expanding it) the Women’s block had only every contained a grand total of four inmates. Because of this the female inmates were concentrated at the far end of the block. “Pretty quite tonight…” Batwoman remarked.

“They’ve been waiting for something big to happen… it’s been a while since you got back from Metropolis.” Aaron stopped walking and Batwoman turned to look at him. The two were standing in the middle of the unoccupied section of the Women’s Block. “Do you really think he’s going to kill her?” Aaron asked Batwoman.

“No.” She replied, looking down the row of cells. “I don’t think he’ll kill Harley. She’s his favorite toy… the Joker might damage her, but he won’t break her--- at least not permanently.” Batwoman shrugged slightly before she continued walking towards the occupied cells.

The first time that Batwoman had encountered Harley Quinn the blond woman had still been Doctor Harleen Frances Quinzel, a new psychologist working on the Intensive Treatment Unit. Harleen had only been out of school for a handful of months and she’d only been assigned to the Joker because none of the other psychologists wanted to go anywhere near him. Aaron Cash had been the first one to notice the young woman’s interest in the Joker. He’d passed his concerns on to Gordon, who had passed them on to Batwoman.

At the time the Dark Knight hadn’t thought much of Harleen. She’d assumed that the Joker would grow tired of leading the young woman along and turn on the psychologist, sending Quinzel running away screaming… it was what the Joker had done with all the other men and women who had tried to get inside his head. Batwoman had been as surprised as everyone else when the young woman had not only helped the Joker escape, but had joined up with his gang.

The next time that Batwoman had crossed paths with her, Harleen had started calling herself Harley Quinn and had carved up her face so that she had the same smile as the Joker. Like the Joker, Harley usually painted her face white, although she painted diamonds over her eyes and was a little more careful with her lipstick then the Joker was.

Harley Quinn was currently sitting in a corner of her cell, her hands around her knees, which were up against her chest and a glare on what little of her face was visible. Clearly her face had been scrubbed clean when she had been admitted and her outfit had been taken from her. She was wearing a plain orange shirt and pants, the same style which every other inmate on the Intensive Treatment Unit wore. Without her makeup Harley’s eyes seemed slightly too large for her face. “What’s _she_ doing here?” Harley spat as she caught sight of Batwoman.

“Waiting for the Joker.” Batwoman replied. “He sent a card to Gordon… with your blood on it.”

“I knew Mister J wouldn’t leave me here!” Harley laughed, kicking out her legs and leaning back against the wall of her cell, a happy grin on her face. “And I know he’s too smart to let _you_ catch him!”

Batwoman sighed softly as she turned away from Harley, inspecting the nearby cells. Across from Harley’s cell was Poison Ivey, who was silently watching the guards and Batwoman, happily cuddling with one of her beloved potted plants. She smiled at Batwoman, offering the Dark Knight a small wave before giving her plants her undivided attention once more.

Batwoman didn’t have many female enemies… or at least she didn’t have many who would get locked up in Arkham when they were apprehended. There were only two other cells in the Women’s Block that had ever been used. One was Han-- _Two-Face’s_ Cell, which was to the left of Poison Ivy’s and was currently empty. The other cell had once been used to hold Catwoman after she’d been attacked by another inmate at Blackgate Penitentiary… Quincy Sharp seemed determined that Catwoman be held at Arkham the next time she was apprehended.

“Do you know when Two-Face is coming back?” Poison Ivy asked, drawing Batwoman’s attention. “Harely hasn’t been too much fun recently.” The red head was petting the potted plant in her arms, which had several vines which were each roughly as long as Ivy’s arms.

“That one’s new.” Batwoman remarked, gesturing to the plant.

“I know, isn’t he darling!” Ivy cooed softly at the plant, the way a normal woman would react to a baby. “He was a present…” She smirked and Rachel felt a chill go down her spine. “ _From the Joker._ ”

The ground shook as the rear wall of Ivy’s cell exploded, creating a gaping hole. Ivy’s cell was basically a reinforced plastic bubble filled with chemicals which kept her abilities to a minimum. When the wall exploded the chemicals rushed out, filling the cell with normal air.

Batwoman only narrowly missed getting entangled by Ivy’s plants… the two guards weren’t so lucky. They disappeared underneath vines almost instantly, as Aaron made a run for it--- heading for the nearest panic button so he could call for reinforcements and chemicals that had been specifically designed to take Poison Ivy down. A vine reached out, racing after Aaron. Batwoman instantly chucked a batarang at the vine, neatly cutting it in two and allowing Cash to get away.

While she was distracted by allowing Cash a chance to get away Batwoman couldn’t doge as effectively. A vine wrapped around Batwoman, holding her tightly but not tight enough to knock her out, like Ivy had done to the guards.

“That went better then I expected…” Poison Ivy smirked before she turned towards the hole in her cell. “I suppose I owe you one.”

“Nonsense!” The Joker replied. (Batwoman couldn’t see him, but she recognized the voice.) “I break you out, you help me break _in_.”

There was the sound of rubble shifting and then the Joker appeared, standing next to Ivy for a second before he moved towards Batwoman. “Long time no see Batsie.” He smirked. “I see the _Commissioner_ gave you my card.”

“Pudding!” Harley squealed, her pitch causing Batwoman to wince slightly. Harley reached through the bars of her cell, although the Joker was too far away for her to touch. “I was _so_ worried! But I knew you would come back for me.”

“Oh Harley-Girl…” The Joker sighed theatrically as he leaned on a wall near Batwoman, a knife (which seemed to have appeared from nowhere) twirling in his right hand. “And here I was, thinking that you’d learned _something_.”

“Mister J? What are ya talking about?” Harley whimpered, her hands pulling back so she could grip the bars.

“Why, your _actions_ in Metropolis _Doctor_ Quinzel.” The Joker growled, moving ever so slightly closer to Harley’s cell.

“I’m sorry I got caught boss!” Harley sobbed, taking a step back from the bars. “It’s all Batwoman’s fault--”

The Joker darted forward, lightening fast and grabbed Harley’s shirt. He used the orange fabric to pull Harley forward so that her head smashed into the bars as the Joker raised his knife to her throat.

“ _Rachel Wayne_.” The Joker growled. “Would have been _street pizza_ if Superman hadn’t show up… and I _specifically_ said _not_ to touch her.”

“But… but she hurt you pudding!” Harley objected.

“She’s _fiesty_. I like a little fight in a woman.” The Joker smirked.

“I’m sorry Mister J! I’m sorry!” Harley shrieked, tears flowing freely as a drop of blood rolled down her throat.

“You’re _sorry_..” The Joker sneered before he violently shoved Harley away. She fell to the floor of her cell like a marionette whose strings had been cut.

“Sorry to keep you waiting…” The knife vanished up the Joker’s sleeve as he turned and walked back over to Batwoman. “I was… _delayed_ in Metropolis.”

As the Joker approached her the Dark Knight finally managed to get one of her hands free enough to start reaching for a specific pocket on her utility belt… but to do that she needed a little distraction.

“What do you want Joker?” She asked, putting as much venom into the words as she could.

“What do I want?” The Joker seemed to think about her question for a moment. “My face on the one dollar bill.” He tossed his head back and laughed… and Batwoman was fairly certain that Poison Ivy joined him in laughter.

“ _Joker_ …” The Dark Knight growled.

“Oh Bats, can’t you see?” The Joker asked, somehow managing to contain his laughter. “I want _this_. I want you and me… I wasn’t lying when I said that you _complete_ me.” The Joker leaned forward, running a hand over the side of Batwoman’s cowl. However he didn’t try to take it off, so he remained un shocked. “Can’t you see it _Batwoman_? We’re linked, comedy and tragedy… two sides of the same coin, although that’s going into Dent’s territory.”

“You’re insane.” Batwoman spat, her fingers almost touching the item she needed to pull out of the belt.

“Well then blame it on the bats in my belfry!” The Joker practically spat back as Batwoman’s hand closed around a small bottle of a powerful defoliant.

And then the Joker did something that not even Batwoman could have predicted. He leaned forward, grabbed her chin with one hand… and kissed her.

For a second Batwoman couldn’t think and time seemed to stop. But just as quickly time sped back up to normal and Rachel Wayne’s instincts came through.

Although this time it was more like a kick to the family jewels, instead of a simple knee. The Joker hissed and pulled back as Batwoman quickly aimed the defoliant at the root of the vine which was entangling her and pressed down hard. Ivy shrieked in pain as the vine was hit. Almost immediately the vine released Batwoman, who was instantly moving, delivering a harsh kick to the Joker, which caused him to stumble backwards as the Asylum’s alarms started to sound.

“Pudding!” Harley shrieked, apparently recovered from the Joker’s previous actions. “Don’t leave me here! Please!”

Ivy was already halfway out the hole in her cell wall when she staggered backwards, screaming and sobbing as guards sprayed her with chemicals. One dashed forward and cuffed the red headed women’s hands behind her back… as the Joker took off down the hallway, Batwoman right behind him. As they started passing through the uninhabited cells of the Women’s Block the Joker suddenly took a right, where there was a fire escape.

The door exploded in front of the Joker, giving him an exit… but instead of going down the Joker started climbing up, towards the roof. Of course, the Dark Knight followed him. Arkham Asylum had come alive, search lights were quickly passing back and forth over the grounds as the entire place went into strict lockdown.

Batwoman could hear guards following her as the Joker started running across the roof… she had no idea where he was going and was pretty sure he didn’t either. It seemed like the Joker wanted to be caught, like he wanted to be returned to Arkham. _He’s probably still broke and wants a place to sleep and eat while he plans his next attack…_ Batwoman realized as she pulled her bolas and slung them at the Joker.

In seconds the Clown Prince of Crime was lying on the rooftop of Arkham. As Batwoman approached him he rolled over on to his side, nonchalantly resting his head on his arm and posing like he was a supermodel in a swimsuit add. “We have to stop meeting like this… _darling_.”

Batwoman didn’t reply, choosing instead to push him back on to his stomach with her foot and cuff his hands behind his back. As the first guards (lead by Aaron) reached the roof she removed the bolas from his feet and hauled the Joker upright.

“Thanks Batwoman, we’ll take it from here.” Aaron said, stepping forward to take control of the newest returning Arkham client. Batwoman nodded silently, sending one last glare at the Joker (who had started laughing again) before she calmly walked away from the growing group of guards.

Gordon was waiting next to the Tumbler. “The Joker’s back in Arkham.” Batwoman said as she stepped past the Commissioner, deactivating the Tumbler’s security measures. “Aaron Cash will make sure he stays away from Harley until they make up.”

“Batwoman…” Gordon didn’t look directly at Batwoman, instead he kept his gaze focused on the main doors of the Asylum. “Despite what some members of the press might say… you’re not responsible for the Joker.”

“Thank you James.” Rachel replied, before she climbed in the Tumbler. James look over at her and smiled before he stated walking towards Arkham, most likely to fill out a small mountain of paperwork.

Alfred wasn’t in the Cave when the Dark Knight returned… without really looking around her Batwoman made her way to the section of the cave where she stored her suit and equipment. With almost mechanical movements she removed her suit, quickly and easily disarming the various security devices. She sighed softly as she set the suit, cape and cowl away.

It was clear that Alfred had been in the cave before she returned. He’d left a comfortable pair of sweatpants and a loose grey shirt for her to change into. She slipped them on and made her way upstairs… and headed straight to her bedroom.

She desperately need a good long shower.

An hour later Rachel Wayne found herself sitting on the floor of her shower, clutching her legs to her chest.

Her fingers were wrinkled and she’d scrubbed her face till it was red… but she still didn’t feel _clean_.

  
 _  
Author’s Notes:   
_

_I decided that Gotham’s Cathedral (or at least the Gotham Cathedral that Batwoman hangs out on top of) is dedicated to Saint Christina the Astonishing. She was born a peasant in Belgium in 1150, orphaned at 15 and at 21/22 she had a massive seizure. People thought she was dead and a funeral was held, but she woke up, levitated and told everyone that she’d witnessed heaven, hell and purgatory. She died of natural causes in 1224 at the age of 74._

 _Saint Christina is the patron Saint of **a lot of stuff**. Here's a short list: Against Insanity, Against Madness, Against Mental Disorders, Against Mental Handicaps, Against Mental Illness and Psychiatrists._

 _I think that makes her a very good Saint for Gotham.[Here's a page with some more info about her.](http://saints.sqpn.com/saint-christina-the-astonishing/)_

 _For those of you who haven't read/seen any Hannibal Lecter, Barney is Hannibal's guard/nurse when he is imprisioned. The two have a very professional relationship. Barney is polite and civil to Hannibal and Hannibal returns the favor, which saves Barney's life several times._


	14. Hora Somni

  
  
**  
_Hora Somni = Latin for “At The Hour Of Sleep”_   
**   


\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 _ **From:** Batwoman  
 **To:** Martian Manhunter  
 **Subject:** RE: RE: RE: Upgrades For The Watchtower  
 **Date:** Friday, August 22, 2014 2:42 pm_

 _These modifications shouldn’t take much time to complete. I have several programs which should, with some slight modifications, greatly enhance the Watchtower’s systems. The installation of these programs should fix roughly 78.5% of problems I have noticed on the Satellite._

 _Of the remaining 21.5% approximately 0.3% simply can not be covered. As I am sure you are aware, with any system, especially one as complex as the Watchtower, there will always been a section of it’s programming that is not secure. However the programs which I mentioned above should ensure that what little of the Justice League’s computer systems are “hackable” will consist of irrelevant information (cafeteria menus, support staff’s pay rates, etc.) or purposefully falsified records._

 _The remaining 21.2% of our problems consist of issues which can be most easily fixed through the use of new equipment. I suggest the following:_

 _ISDN Reverser  
Localized Muon Polarizer  
Balancing Photonic  
Localized HTTP Carrier  
Paraphoretic Transporter Control  
Synaptic Kemocite Transwarp_

 _I have contacts through which I can procure the above equipment at no cost to the League. If anything, consider this my membership dues. The items I have listed are relatively small, I shall bring them and what little I need to install them with me._

 _I plan to arrive on Monday, August 25th at approximately 11:00 pm (Eastern Standard Time) although events in Gotham may delay my arrival._

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 _ **From:** Martian Manhunter  
 **To:** Batwoman  
 **Subject:** RE: RE: RE: RE: Upgrades For The Watchtower  
 **Date:** Friday, August 22, 2014 3:21 pm_

 _The upgrades that you have already made to the Watchtower’s systems are truly impressive, especially when one considers that those upgrades have been made while you hacked our system from Earth. I look forward to seeing what your skill will create when you have access to the actual system and all of it’s components._

 _I can see no fault with the equipment that you have suggested and I understand your reasoning concerning which sections of the system to upgrade. Although I am confident in your programs, I believe that certain members of the Justice League will want me to make sure that you are no inserting harmful programs in our software. Once again I can only give you my word that I will not seek to discover your identity._

 _I can tell that the programs and parts which you have suggested will be of great benefit to the League. There are one or two modifications which I would suggest we perform in the future, but in order to do this Superman would have to allow you access to Kryptonian technology and scientific discoveries. However, considering that Kal-El appears to be your most ardent supporter in the League, I do not believe that thiss will be a problem._

 _I have noted your estimated time of arrival and I will understand if events in Gotham delay that arrival. Should the night be more difficult then “normal” I will understand if the upgrades need to be delayed._

 _I offer you my most sincere thanks and look forward to speaking with you in person._

 _-J‘onn J‘onzz_

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Batwoman’s shopping list of parts for the Watchtower was easy enough for Lucius Fox to acquire… he’d even added to the list, throwing in a few odds and ends which he thought might prove useful. Rachel had taken the programs which she used on the Cave’s massively powerful computer and rewritten them for use by the Justice League. Alfred had passed the time by leaving Wayne Manor and buying one large package of Chocos Cookies which, according to Batwoman’s research, were a guilty pleasure for the Martian Manhunter.

Rewriting her computer programs had been simple. After all, Rachel was basically running a “find and replace” program… there were still some faults in the programs, but she needed to be on the Watchtower, observing the code which ran the Justice League’s systems to fix those problems.

After she made the modifications to her programs Batwoman had to go back through the code several times to make sure that she’d erased anything which could lead back to her or Wayne Enterprises… that hadn’t been too hard, since she and Lucius had practically built the Cave’s computer system from scratch. A brief search had removed the more obvious references and it didn’t really matter if one or two references to the Cave or the Tumbler remained.

Actually the hardest part of her preparations for her little trip to the Justice League was making sure that the parts Lucius had given her couldn’t be easily traced. She’d created false paper trails, making it seem like each part had been bought by a different company and that none of those companies could be connected with Wayne Enterprises… to do this she’d employed a system similar to her method for acquiring parts for the Tumbler.

Rachel Wayne finished her preparations only to discover that she had several hours left before Batwoman could go out on patrol. Rachel leaned forward in the large comfy chair which sat in front of the cave’s computer (it was for Alfred’s benefit). She sighed, resting her elbows on the desk and her head in her hands.

What she really needed to do… what she _should_ do was go upstairs and sleep. Rachel _should_ have gotten a good night’s sleep last night… the keyword in both of those sentences being _should_.

For the past three nights Rachel Wayne had gone without sleeping… and she only had an “excuse” for two of those long sleepless nights. The Joker had broken into Arkham on the 17th. On the 22nd and the 23rd Batwoman had spent her nights chasing after Poison Ivy, who had been enjoying her time away from the Asylum a little too much.

The previous night (the 24th of August) Batwoman had finished her patrol of the city and returned to Wayne Manor relatively early in the night. It had been an easy night, one which hadn’t added any new bruises or scars to her collection and she’d headed straight for her bed. Rachel had wanted to get a little extra sleep, so that she would be well rested for her visit to the Watchtower.

But instead Rachel Wayne had found herself lying in the middle of her bed, staring up at the ceiling. She hadn’t been sleeping, but still the memories came to haunt her.

 _She was seven years old and chasing Bruce Dawes. He’d found an arrow head while they’d been playing in the Manor’s gardens… Bruce had been her best friend, her only friend… and her first crush._

 _She’d snatched the arrow head out of Bruce’s hands and ran, ending up hiding in the old stone well in one of the green houses. Bruce had chased after her… and then the rotten wood which she was standing on shattered and Rachel fell._

 _Sometimes she still dreamed about it… lying at the bottom of the old well, lying in the Cave which Batwoman would later claim as her lair. Lying on the cold ground with nothing around her but darkness… and the bats._

 _She managed to sit up when they’d realized that something had disturbed them… thousands of bats, swarming around the little girl who’d fallen into their world. She’d wanted so badly to scream, but had been so scared that not a whimper had slipped past her lips. She’d lain there, terrified and in pain until her Father appeared above her._

 _Rachel been scared of bats ever since her Father had lifted her into his arms and carried Rachel back up into the light… but her chiroptophobia hadn’t taken hold until a stupid, silly little childhood fear had made her parents leave that opera early… and her life had been brutally torn to shreds._

 _It had taken more then ten years for Rachel to overcome her fear of bats… and even then she’d only been able to replace one phobia with another._

 _Thanks to Henri Ducard and Ra’s Al Ghul Rachel had replaced her chiroptophobia with tocophobia._

Rachel had spent the rest of the night sitting in her study and watching anime on her laptop.

Batwoman growled, pulling herself out of her musings she rose from her chair and headed towards the section of the Cave where she kept some gymnastic equipment, the machines which “Heiress Rachel Wayne” would never use.

Batwoman didn’t believe in a lot of things… but one thing she believed in was that sometimes a girl just needed to beat the crap out of something.

And that new punching bag that Alfred had gotten her looked mighty inviting, especially if she taped a certain someone’s photograph on it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

At exactly 10:55 pm Batwoman stood on the roof of Wayne Enterprises, a bag of technology and USB drives in her hand. She was exhausted and under her gloves her knuckles were raw and might be bleeding… she couldn’t tell if the wetness on her hands was blood or sweat. Not only had she gotten no sleep in the past three days, but she’d also worked herself to exhaustion right before heading out to help the Justice League.

… oh and she was fairly certain that her “new” punching bag needed to be replaced.

At the moment Batwoman was dead on her feet. She was running on pure willpower and an extra large cup of “Alfred’s Study Aid” --- 1 cup of extra strong coffee with two shots of espresso and roughly a pound of sugar. The end result was a sort of syrupy concoction which one probably shouldn’t drink before operating heavy machinery.

When she teleported up to the Watchtower Batwoman headed straight for the main observation deck, the same place that Superman had introduced her to the rest of the Justice League. The Martian Manhunter wads already there, preparing the computers and other machines which they needed to work on. J’onn seemed both surprised and delighted when Batwoman silently held out the package of Chocs Cookies before doing her best to lower her mental shields and allow J’onzz to read her mind.

As promised the Martian Manhunter didn’t go anywhere near her identity, he only entered her mind so that he could make a quick inspection to ensure that Batwoman wasn’t going to use her programs or technology to sabotage the Justice League.

After that unpleasant but sadly necessary business was out of the way, Batwoman and J’onn started working, a comfortable silence falling between the human and the martian.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Batwoman glanced over at the clocks on the wall of the observation desk, only mildly surprised to find that someone had added a clock specifically dedicated to Gotham. While the Watchtower had it’s own somewhat timeless feel, it was midnight down in Gotham.

The Dark Knight was finishing up, installing the last program on her list. She was sitting at the largest monitor in the room, her hands flying over the keyboard as J’onn stood motionless behind her, probably using his mental powers to attend to League business. Batwoman was saving the last few changes that she’d implemented when the Watchtower’s alarm went off, summoning the League Members.

Wonderman was on Themyscira visiting with his mother. Recently David had been having difficulty living in “Man’s World” and had returned to the island to speak with his mother, Queen Hippolyta… although Batwoman didn’t know if that would really help. It would have been hard enough, being the only male Amazon, but now that Wonderman knew of the outside world…

Batwoman drew herself out of her thoughts as Superman, Green Lantern and Hawkman appeared and moved over to stand in a loose circle around the chair she was sitting in. The Flash was standing in front of the Martian Manhunter… in fact the Scarlet Speedster was waving a hand in front of J’onn’s eyes.

“Stop that!” Hawkman snapped, glaring at the Flash as Batwoman quickly read over the information, with only Superman finding himself able to keep up with the scrolling text.

“It’s okay.” The Flash said, turning towards Hawkman with a smirk on his face. “I don’t think he’s home right now… what’s he working on anyway?”

“I don’t know.” Hawkman shrugged. “But it’s probably important, _so leave him alone_.”

“Aren’t you--”

Secretly Batwoman liked the Flash… but of course if she acted like that it would seriously damage her “Dark Knight” image. So she controlled her smirk and cut Wally off with a (relatively gentle) growl. “Forget that, get over here.”

“… _Crankier then usual_.” Flash sighed before he super-speeded over to the group of heroes standing next to the monitor. “So what’s happening Bats?”

The tiniest hint of a smile appeared on Batwoman’s face when the Flash called her ‘Bats’--- luckily she was facing the monitor and no one saw her break character. “There’s been a breakout at Stryker’s Island Penitentiary. Solomon Grundy, Copperhead, Firefly, Volcana and Luminus are at large.”

“Say no more.” Flash smiled.

“I wasn’t intending to.” Batwoman replied as she stood up and walked towards the teleporter, Green Lantern and Superman following close behind her.

“What about J’onn?” Hawkman asked, hanging behind the group. Flash looked like he was about to approach the Martian when he suddenly snapped out of his trance.

“I’m ready.” The Martian Manhunter said as he started following the rest of the group.

“So what were you working on?” Flash asked, checking his speed so that he was walking next to J’onn.

“Nothing.” J’onn informed him. “I was taking a nap.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Batwoman had gotten paired up with the Green Lantern… to tell the truth Batwoman had nothing but respect for the man. John Stewart had served in the United States Marine Corps before the Guardians of the Universe had chosen him as the Green Lantern of Sector 2814. Batwoman hadn’t even really been annoyed that Stewart had once tried to find her. She’d only thrown that batarang because it was expected of Gotham’s Dark Knight.

Batwoman was uncomfortable with pretty much all the members of the Justice League. It wasn’t anything personal, it was more that she always felt keenly aware that she was the only non-powered “big name” hero. Somehow, without Batwoman having any real say in the matter, the Justice League seemed to have decided that Batwoman was on the same level as the original six members… but even with Green Arrow the Dark Knight felt uncomfortable, although that was mostly due to Ollie’s distrust of her and Batwoman’s fear that he’d somehow discovered that Rachel Wayne was behind the mask.

The villains who had escaped from Stryker’s Island had split up into smaller groups… so the Justice League had done the same thing. Batwoman and Green Lantern were on the trail of Firefly and Volcana.

The two pyromaniacs had ended up fleeing to one of the warehouses in which the property of Stryker’s Island inmates was kept while they served out their sentences. While Volcana had powers Firefly was a tech based villain, he needed his suit and his flame guns if he was going to stay out of police custody.

The second that Firefly stepped outside of the warehouse and opened fire the Police Officers did the same. Firefly’s flame gun was dangerous… but only in close quarters. He was quickly driven back inside… which meant it was Volcana’s turn. The red headed meta blasted away the warehouse’s main door and came running out, tossing fireballs at the police and their cars.

She was about to hit a downed police officer with her flames when Green Lantern swooped in, using his ring to pull the officer away to safety… as John blasted energy at Volcana Batwoman shot her grappling hook, which twisted around Firefly’s legs.

The Dark Knight pulled on the grappling hook, which caused Firefly to briefly loose control of his flight system… but it also meant that he new she was there. Firefly fired off his flamethrower at Batwoman, forcing her to start running away from the flames. Cackling manically Firefly chased after her, following her through the maze liked corridors in the warehouse.

When Batwoman suddenly landed on his back Firefly made a noise not too different from a kicked duck… or at least what Batwoman thought a kicked duck would sound like. He struggled to throw the Dark Knight off, but she was too close for him to use his flamethrower and too strong to simply shake off. And while he was trying to get Batwoman off him Firefly didn’t noticed that she was directing their flight, making them turn and move until they were outside of the warehouse.

Batwoman punched the pyromaniac as hard as she could and leaped off… just seconds before Firefly flew straight into Volcana, who had been throwing her flames at Green Lantern. The two villains went tumbling, head over heels.

Volcana was the first to recover. “Are you good for _anything_?” She growled, climbing to her feet before kicking Firefly in the stomach. As Firefly managed to climb to his feet Green Lantern calmly flew over and created a sort of bell jar over the two villains.

“You think this can hold me?” Volcana growled.

“Knock yourself out.” John smirked as Batwoman walked over to him. Firefly started blasting the construct with his flamethrower and Volcana started using her powers… until the two started to feel the effects of their flames.

“What’s happening?” Volcana gasped, falling to her knees as she struggled to breathe.

“Fire needs air.” Batwoman explained, crossing her arms over her chest. “And you just burned up all of yours.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Two down, three to go.” John smiled as the guards at Stryker’s Island locked Volcana back in her specially designed cell, while another guard escorted Firefly (now sans his flamethrower) back to his cell.

The Guards at Stryker’s Island hadn’t been too surprised to see Green Lantern… but when Batwoman followed him into the prison with Firefly and Volcana one or two made actual audible noises of surprise. Green Lantern had told the Warden that Gotham’s Dark Knight was a member of the Justice League, but the Guards still acted differently whenever they noticed her presence.

As Green Lantern finished checking Volcana’s cage Batwoman couldn’t stop herself from yawning. The Warden, who had been standing nearby, turned towards her at the sound. “Pretty routine stuff for you, isn’t it?” He asked as Green Lantern moved towards them, a slightly worried look on his face.

“Third night in a row with no sleep.” The Dark Knight admitted, tilting her head to one side to stretch her neck.

Before John could comment on this revelation the Warden’s radio beeped. “Warden, D’s gone.”

“What are you talking about?” The Warden asked, his face twisted in confusion. “He’s cationic! How can he be _gone_?”

There was a moment of silence, in which Batwoman could just imagine the poor guard trying to figure out how to explain what had happened. “You better come to the infirmary.” He finally replied.

The Warden started walking down one of the halls, motioning for Green Lantern and Batwoman to follow him “D?” Batwoman inquired.

“John Dee, small time crook. He was a volunteer on the Materioptikon Project, an experimental ESP machine.”

“ _An ESP machine?!_ “ Green Lantern frowned. “Kinda a dangerous thing to have in a prison, isn’t it?”

“Where else are you going to find volunteers too…” The Warden trailed off as the three turned around a corner, reaching what must be the Prison’s infirmary. Except for the Guard who had radioed the Warden, very single man, be they a prisoner or a guard, was asleep and mumbling as they dreamed.

Behind her cowl Batwoman’s eyes narrowed as she examined the scene. Something out of the ordinary was wrong. “Why was Dee in the infirmiry?” She asked, her question startling the Warden slightly.

“After the breakout we found him in the Materiopikon, with our leading scientist passed out on the floor… Like I said earlier, he was catatonic! We thought an accident had fried his brain.”

Batwoman silently stepped outside of the infirmary and pulled opened a laundry shoot… it was big enough for a man to go down. “It’s probably too late, but you should have someone check the laundry room.” She informed the Warden.

“But what happened to everybody? Some kind of poisoning?” The Warden seemed overwhelmed. Before either Batwoman or Green Lantern could reply, their com’s came to life.

“Yeah?” John asked, pressing against his com so that the Warden wouldn’t think the two had gone crazy.

“We’ve got the other three pinned down at the Old West Side Refinery.” It was Superman, sounding a little too proud for Batwoman’s liking.

“We’ll be right there.” John informed the Kryptonian as he closed the channel.

“No…” Batwoman replied, her gaze meeting Green Lantern’s. “I’m staying.”

“What for?” John blinked in confusion. “You don’t know if Dee did this.”

“I don’t know if he didn’t.” Batwoman replied, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Look, Bats…” John sighed as Batwoman struggled not to growl at the nickname. “Whatever happened, he’s sure not in the same league as Grundy and the others. He’s a nobody!”

Batwoman bit back a sigh. This was one of the reasons that she preferred to work alone… when she was alone she never had to explain herself. As both Rachel Wayne and Batwoman she often couldn’t explain how she arrived at a conclusion… and now was one of those times. “Ever read _The Odyssey_?” She asked and John looked somewhat guilty as he shook his head. “After Odysseus was caught by the cyclops, he told it his name was ‘nobody’. So when he poked it’s eye out and it’s friends asked who did it… all the cyclops could say was ‘ _nobody_ ’.”

John blinked, but finally he sighed and looked away. “…point taken.” He muttered.

“I’m going to need all the information you can get me on Dee.” Batwoman informed the Warden, who nodded and moved off to talk to some of the guards.

“I’m going to help the others.” Green Lantern told her before taking off.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It hadn’t taken long for the rest of the Justice League to take down Luminus, Copperhead and Solomon Grundy.

It also hadn’t take long for Batwoman to find Penny Dee… although she’d clearly arrived after John had reached her.

Penny had been married to John when he was arrested. As far as Batwoman could tell she’d been a good woman, who had left John when he was in prison… she’d even found a new boyfriend, a man named Rick.

John Dee clearly hadn’t been too pleased with that development.

Batwoman still didn’t know what he’d done… but she knew that he was the reason the innocent woman was currently lying in a hospital bed under heavy sedation. The Hospital had already checked Penny’s blood for drugs and found nothing, so Batwoman had gone for an alternative method of diagnosis.

As Batwoman slipped through a window (unlocked, although no lock would have stopped her) J’onn passed through the wall, ending up on the opposite side of the bed from the Dark Knight.

“I got here as soon as I could.” J’onn stated, nodding in greeting to Batwoman, who returned the gesture.

“Do your thing.” Batwoman replied, allowing her cape to close around her.

The Martian Manhunter leaned forward and gently placed his hands on Penny’s head, his eyes closing as he concentrated.

Penny was a nickname. Her legal name was Margret Dee. The divorce wasn’t finalized yet, since John hadn’t signed the papers. Her maiden name was Higgins… but that probably wouldn’t be for long. Batwoman had seen how concerned her boyfriend, Rick Drysdale, was, how the nurses had to practically pull him out of her room. Rick probably had a ring already picked out, in fact Batwoman wouldn’t be surprised if he had started carrying it around, waiting for the moment to be right to get down on one knee.

And then John Dee had done something to Penny, something which left her crying out in terror, seemingly trapped in a nightmare… before Batwoman’s thoughts could go any further the Martian Manhunter gasped and pulled back, one hand rising to rub at his forehead, as if he had a headache.

“J’onn?” She inquired, stepping closer.

“He calls himself Doctor Destiny now.” J’onn explained. “He came into her dreams… and did this to her.”

“Why can’t she wake up?” Batwoman asked, her gaze moving between J’onn and Penny.

“It’s a delusional state.” J’onn replied, shifting slightly on the bed, reaching out to touch Penny once again “I’m going back in to see if I can bring her out of it… he wants us too.”

“Why?” Batwoman whispered, not really expecting J‘onn to answer. “I’d never even heard of him before today…”

A chill went up Batwoman’s spine as she tried to contact the Watchtower on her com. J’onn was awake, and looked well rested… _but what about the rest of the League?_ Flash and Hawkman were on duty, so one of them would (hopefully) be awake. Superman and Green Lantern were probably going to sleep at that very moment and Batwoman… well it could probably be considered a miracle that she was upright. In her state she could probably fall asleep while standing.

That’s when it hit her… Doctor Destiny could somehow go into people’s dreams. Even though J’onn J’onzz was standing right next to her Batwoman didn’t even try to stop her full body shudder at the idea of being trapped in her dreams.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 _There was a very large frog sitting in Wally West’s kitchen. It was big and green and sitting in the fridge… on the shelf where he usually kept milk. Wally suspected the Trickster was behind the frog’s appearance in his refrigerator… but James had been in the Hospital, taking his meds and inviting the Flash over to play darts not two days ago._

 _Not only was finding frog in his fridge strange, it was also very annoying, since it seemed the giant pest had decided to eat most of Wally’s food. With a sigh he shut the door to his refrigerator, deciding that he’d deal with removing the frog after he’d gotten something to eat. In the blink of an eye he’d opened the door to his apartment and run out, intending to head over to a grocery store on the other side of town, the run would be nice…_

 _But when he stopped outside of the store no one was moving… the world seemed frozen, from the people on the street to the birds in the sky. Flash’s eyes went wide as he turned around, trying to figure out what was happening._

 _“You went too fast.”_

 _There was a man standing behind Flash… a man who looked very similar to Skeletor. His face was a skull, with two yellow eyes. He was wearing a blue cape with a hood and a blue body suit. The man’s voice was a sinister snarl that made a shiver run down Wally’s back._

 _“You went too fast… and you’re never going to be able to slow down again.” The man smirked (even though he didn’t have lips) as he moved closer to Wally. As he said this the world suddenly lost it’s color, making everything a shade of grey except for the stranger and the Flash._

 _It was… well it was terrifying, but also somehow familiar._

 _“I get it!” Wally rubbed at his eyes. “It’s a dream.” He forced himself to laugh and smile. “Same one I’ve been having ever since I got my speed… and here’s where the Swedish bikini team comes in to keep me company!”_

 _He turned, expecting to see Cajsa, Fredrika and the other three girls that he hadn’t gotten around to googling Swedish names for… but there was no one there, no one but the frozen citizens of Central City._

 _Skeletor laughed and the same shiver went down Wally’s spine. He struggled to brush off the feeling of unease which was washing over him. “Anyway… all I gotta do is--” he closed his eyes and despertly tried to wake up._

 _It didn’t work._

 _“Wake up?” The stranger laughed. “The fastest man alive… always leaving people like me in your dust. But now you’re stuck in high gear and you’re going to be all alone… forever.”_

 _The Flash took a step backwards, suddenly wanting to be away from the man… and a nearby payphone started ringing. “That’ll be for me…” he smiled, but it was a weak grin. “It’s the alarm next to my bed. As soon as I get it I’m out of here… see you next time I’ve had too many jalapeños!_

 _He speeded over to the payphone and tried to pick it up… but it wouldn’t move. He pulled on it, harder and harder until suddenly it became a puff of smoke in his hands._

 _“That’s… that’s never happened before.” Wally whispered, real terror starting to take control of him._

 _“That’s because there’s not going to be a wake up call this time…” The man laughed manically as he vanished in a flash of light and color._

 _Wally chocked on a sob as he realized that he was alone… the only moving thing in a silent, colorless world._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Batwoman sighed and turned back towards the Martian Manhunter. “No one’s answering at the Watchtower.” She told J’onn.

“I can’t bring her out of it… his hold is too strong.”

Batwoman turned away from J’onn and activated a different function of her com, there was a brief dial tone before the call connected… and went to voicemail.

“ _Hi, this is Clark. Leave a message._ ” The Man of Steel’s phone instructed her.

“I’ll be over in a few minutes.” Batwoman could only hope that Superman was still awake to hear her message… at the time it didn’t register that her voice was a little too similar to the one she used as Rachel Wayne. “Whatever you do, don’t go to sleep!”

 __

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note:
> 
> Yes Rachel Wayne has tocophobia. Go ahead and google it, then you’ll understand why I’m confirming this here in the notes.
> 
> The list of equipment in Batwoman’s email to the Martian Manhunter was created using various online Techonobabble Generators.
> 
> “Alfred’s Study Aid” is based off a real drink, which is called Joe's Study Aid. My college has a coffee shop in the Library called Rao's, which exists to keep us poor college students caffinated and without money. Very frequently I have only finished a paper because of Joe's Study Aid.
> 
> Yes, Wonderman is the only male Amazon. When Hippolyta carved her child out of clay and the gods gave it life it was a boy. So yeah, David’s got a lot of issues that he doesn’t really know he has yet.


	15. Somnaire

  
  
**  
_Somnaire = Latin for “To Dream”_   
**   


Batwoman turned away from J’onn and activated a different function on her com. There was a moment of silence, a brief dial tone and then the call connected… and after a few rings it went to voicemail.

“ _Hi, this is Clark. Leave a message._ ” The Man of Steel’s voice instructed her.

“I’ll be over in a few minutes.” Batwoman could only hope that Superman was still awake to hear her message. “Whatever you do, don’t go to asleep!”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 _Clark Kent peeked over the top of his menu, a smile on his face. Rachel Wayne was sitting across the table from him, playing with her wine glass as she gazed out at the city around them. The reporter and the heiress were sitting on the private balcony at a fancy restaurant in Metropolis, the kind with several hundred pieces of silverware on either side of the plate. The Princess of Gotham had already figured out what she wanted and was waiting for Clark to make up his mind._

 _Rachel glanced across the table at the reporter, a smile on her face, her eyes seeming to shine in the moonlight. Her hair was loose and elegantly framed her face. She was wearing a long black sleeveless evening gown. Some trick of the light and the way that Rachel was sitting made the edge of her dress look like it had been formed out of shadows. Her pale skin seemed to glow in the moonlight and around her neck, framed by the v shaped neckline of her dress, was a small silver pendant… a pendant which actually looked very similar to Batwoman’s batarangs. Clark found his thoughts drifting as he wondered if the pendant had been a gift from the Dark Knight, if perhaps it was a weapon or maybe held some sort of panic button which would alert Batwoman if anything happened to her patron._

 _“It all looks so good…” Clark sighed as he flipped back to the beginning of the menu, struggling to make up his mind. He heard Rachel laugh softly… and then his menu started to smoke._

 _Clark blinked twice before he realized that, for some reason, he’d lost control of his heat vision and was burning two holes in the menu. Quickly he shut his eyes, only to hear his glasses shatter. He threw a hand over his face, using his own practically invulnerable body to stop the laser like beams that were shooting out of his eyes._

 _“Clark?” Rachel sounded concerned and Superman could tell that she was leaning forward in her seat. “Your menu is smoking.”_

 _“Is it?” Clark laughed, trying not to let Rachel hear his panic. “I must have gotten it too close to the candle. It’s so dark in here that---”_

 _Rachel cut him off. “Clark, this place doesn’t have candles.” He heard Rachel push her chair back and walk around the side of the table. “You’re hiding something---”_

 _Rachel’s hand was on his arm, the one which Clark was holding in front of his eyes. The touch was so sudden, so unexpected that Clark couldn’t stop himself from looking up at Rachel._

 _For a split second he was looking at Rachel Wayne, who was frowning as she stared down at him… and then Clark’s powers blasted a horrible gaping **hole** in the young woman’s side as he closed his eyes. Rachel screamed and Clark screamed with her, unable to shake the image of the damage he’d done to the young woman._

 _Rachel’s shaking body fell forward and he instantly wrapped his arms around her. Tears were already running down his face when his right hand touched the wound… he could feel the blood soaking his hand and the sleeve of his shirt._

 _“Clark…” She whispered, her hand fisting Clark’s shirt. She’d stopped screaming, now she only whimpered in pain, her breath coming in short labored gasps._

 _“Oh god-- Rachel…“ Superman whispered, rocking back and forth as the human’s grip grew weaker and weaker._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 _John Stewart couldn’t understand what was happening._

 _Apart from his time on Oa he’d lived in this neighborhood all his life… he knew everyone and everyone knew him. It was the rare sort of community where everyone looked out for each other and trusted their neighbors… most of his neighbors treated John like a member of their family!_

 _So why did everyone he approach scream in terror before running away? Why were they acting like he was the Joker or Solomon Grundy?_

 _“What are you afraid of?” John called out as he stumbled backwards, running into someone._

 _“You’re not one of them anymore.” John turned around and found himself face to face with… well he wasn’t really sure. It looked like a man, one who was wearing a blue tunic like shirt over blue leggings, along with a blue cape and hood. The strange thing was that the man had a skull where his face should have been._

 _“What are you talking about? This is my home!” John growled at the stranger._

 _Standing on the sidewalk nearby was a young boy named Chris. John knew the boy well, he’d eaten dinner with the family and frequently played basketball with the boy’s dad._

 _“Chris!” John stepped forward and placed a hand on the young boy’s shoulder. “Tell this fool who I am!”_

 _The little boy looked so scared that John Stewart stepped back almost instantly. Chris opened his mouth as if he was about to speak… but all that came out was a string of gibberish._

 _“Be it ever so humble, there’s no place like… home?” The stranger whispered as he gestured around them._

 _John realized that the advertisements on the buildings in the neighborhood had changed. They weren’t in English anymore and the people in the advertisements didn’t look human._

 _“You did this!” John screamed in anger, his hands clenching into fists as he shifted into his Green Lantern uniform, the energy of his ring creating a halo around his body._

 _“It wasn’t me…” the strange man objected. “ **You’re** the one who’s changed.”_

 _Before John could reply he felt his skin **shift** and his ring’s power exploded around him. After that the only thing that John Stewart, Green Lantern of Earth, could do was scream._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It had not taken J’onn J’onzz long to reach Green Lantern’s apartment and discover that John Stewart had fallen asleep and, like Penny Dee, had been trapped in his nightmares by Doctor Destiny. It had taken another short stretch of time for the Martian Manhunter to take the Green Lantern to Clark Kent’s apartment, where he found Batwoman standing next to Superman’s bed, where the Last Son of Krypton was lying, sound asleep.

Although J’onn made no noise when he landed in Kent’s apartment, Batwoman somehow knew he was there, because the moment his feet touched the ground she turned to look at him. “You can’t wake him?” She asked, her gaze focused on John Stewart’s body.

“No.” J’onn replied. “Any luck with Superman?”

Batwoman shifted slightly, so that she could look at the Man of Steel, who was moving ever so slightly as he slept. Batwoman seemed… well _exceptionally_ sad, more so then J’onn would have thought was possible for Gotham’s Dark Knight.

“I gave him some stimulants… but this is someone who could have a _building_ fall on him and not feel it.”

“I’ll take them to the Watchtower.” J’onn decided. He placed Green Lantern on the bed next to Superman and started setting up the teleport. “The bio-regenerators in the sick bay may help… Flash and Hawkman are currently alone up there.”

“Good luck.” Batwoman nodded her head towards the Martian Manhunter, which appeared to be becoming their method of exchanging greetings and farewells. The Dark Knight moved over to the open window which J’onn had flown through. “In the meantime I’m gonna find this guy.”

“How?” J’onn asked, arching his eyebrow even though he didn’t really have an eyebrow to arch.

“When he’s using his mental powers his body is probably left in a vulnerable state.” Batwoman explained. “He must in a place he thinks is safe, somewhere… familiar.”

“Reasonable.” J’onn replied, agreeing with Batwoman’s logic. “But once you find him… how do you stop him from _thinking_?”

“I’ll just have to improvise.” Batwoman shrugged as she pulled out her grappling hook.

“Be careful.” J’onn cautioned. “If you nod off for even a second--”

“Don’t worry.” Batwoman cut him off. “I’m used to late hours.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 _“Flash! Wake up!” Hawkman shouted at the Scarlet Speedster, shaking the man in an attempt to wake him. “Flash!”_

 _Hawkman heard the sound of the elevator doors opening behind him and turned around to see the Martian Manhunter stepping out. “J’onn… thank heaven.” Katar Hol sighed in relief. “There was this telepath that got into my dreams---”_

 _“I know.” J’onn replied. “How did you--”_

 _“I’m not sure.” Hawkman shrugged. “That mind control stuff must not work too well on us aliens.”_

 _“Whatever it was, we need to put you somewhere safe.” The Martian Manhunter grabbed Katar’s arm and started pulling the Thanagarian towards the elevator._

 _“Are you crazy?” Hawkman spat, pulling his arm away from J’onn._

 _“No…” Katar froze as he realized that there was something wrong with the Maritan’s voice. “But you are going to be.”_

 _Three things happened at (roughly) the same time. Hawkman realized that the **thing** in front of him wasn’t J’onn. The thing shifted, becoming a human in a blue uniform with a skull instead of a head… as soon as the shift was finished the stranger reached forward, wrapping some sort of restraint around Katar’s wings._

 _Then the stranger pulled a lever that seemed to have suddenly appeared on the floor next to him. The ground beneath the Thanagarian’s feet vanished and Hawkman fell, his hands grasping at the empty air as he screamed, his wings fighting to break free of their confinement and stop his descent._

 _He couldn’t stop himself, he couldn’t fly, he just kept falling and falling… through space, through the atmosphere. Down and down and down, towards the earth far below. Out of the corner of his eye Katar could see the ground, rushing up to meet him. He landed with a horrible crash and realized that he was in an open coffin sitting in an empty grave. Before Hawkman could recover from his crash landing the Stranger appeared, standing above him…_

 _The man with the skull face slammed a coffin lid on to Hawkman’s coffin. The Thanagarian screamed and clawed at the lid, but despite all the noise he was making he could clearly hear the dirt being shoveled on top of the wood._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

John Dee’s house, where he’d been living with Penny at the time of his arrest, was dark and silent. Batwoman hadn’t thought that “Doctor Destiny” would be there… but it was the closest possible hiding place, so she’d checked it out-- just to be safe.

“The bio-regenerators are not helping.” J’onn J’onzz informed Batwoman over the com link as she climbed into the Tumbler. “Was he there?”

“No.”

“The others are getting worse…” J’onn took a deep breath. Batwoman could tell that he was looking over at the other members of the Justice League. “I’m going to have to go in to their minds.”

“Too dangerous.” She practically growled at the Martian. “You could end up just like them.”

“If I don’t then they’ll die for sure… Dee’s wife is dead.”

Batwoman’s fists dug into the steering wheel of the Tumbler “…do what you have to.” She whispered into the com, before she raced off into the night.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 _The Daily Planet was in flames… Perry was dead, lying on top of his desk. On the ground next to him was Lois Lane, broken and bleeding as she too her last few breaths. Jimmy was in a very similar state, lying at Clark’s feet… he hadn’t meant to kill him--- he hadn’t meant to kill any of them._

 _He was too powerful--- no matter what he did his powers kept acting up, kept increasing, kept hurting those he cared for… hurting those he loved._

 _Batwoman was standing in front of him. There was a huge gasp in the left side of her suit, where Clark’s heat vision had burned away the protective layers and seared the fragile human skin underneath. Blood was running from the wound, down her side and pooling around her feet. When she breathed in Clark could hear her hissing in pain… and her left arm hung limply at her side._

 _“Clark… I’m sorry.” She whispered, reaching into a pouch on her utility belt and pulling out a chunk of kryptonite._

 _Clark smiled, grateful that Batwoman had thought ahead, that the strange woman would protect everyone else form him. He was prepared to scream in pain and fall to the ground, prepared to pay for the damage he’d done to everyone… but the kryptonite had no effect._

 _Clark screamed in despair and Batwoman coughed, blood coming up to stain her chin. The kryptonite fell from her hand, rolling across the floor… coming to a stop next to Rachel Wayne’s body. Clark stepped forward, reaching out for Batwoman, trying to figure out what was wrong. Batwoman’s body… jerked. Once, twice and then she was falling backward. Her skull bounced off the floor of the Daily Planet… and then the Dark Knight lay still._

 _Clark was kneeling next to Batwoman before he realized that she wasn’t breathing. He heard her heart stop as he reached out to take her into his arms, only to remember how he easily he’d accidentally crushed Jimmy’s spine. He’d already hurt Batwoman… he didn’t want to cause her anymore harm, even if the Dark Knight was beyond feeling any pain that he could cause._

 _“I’m sorry…” He whispered, looking at the two women he’d just murdered, feeling their blood on his hands. It was all his fault._

 _“ **It’s not real! None of it!** ” Clark blinked, clearing away his tears as he looked up, away from Batwoman and Rachel Wayne’s bodies. He knew that voice…_

 _A section of the wall had become a glowing portal of pure white light, so bright that it hurt his eyes to look at it. As Superman stood, slipping slightly in the blood of the two women, the Martian Manhunter emerged from the portal and floated over to him._

 _“I started with no power at all…” Superman whispered, looking back over his shoulder at the two women and the puddle of blood. “Then I kept getting more… what if it never stops?”_

 _“You’ll handle it.” J’onn replied, reaching out towards Clark. “I know you.”_

 _Batwoman and Rachel Wayne were dead and the smell of their blood was making Clark sicker then he could ever remember being. There was this pain in his stomach, a million times worse then anything Clark had experienced… he’d killed the Dark Knight and Gotham’s Princess._

 _“Words…” Clark muttered, his entire body shaking. “Just **words**.”_

 _And then he was flying, going faster then he ever had before, the ground and sky around him becoming a blur of color… he didn’t know where he was going, he didn’t know if the Manhunter was following him-- he didn’t care. Nothing mattered, absolutely nothing mattered._

 _He must have closed his eyes, because when he opened them it was dark, and he was in a small space, pressed up against something metallic… it wasn’t until J’onn pulled the wooden lid away that Clark realized he’d gone home, to the Kent Farm in Sunnydale. He was curled up in the remains of the space ship that his father, Jor-El had built, the one which had brought him to Earth._

 _“We can fight this.” J’onn whispered._

 _“You’ll get hurt.” Clark protested, sitting up but not looking directly at J’onn._

 _“No. I’m stronger here then you are.” J’onn replied, reaching out to Superman._

 _“No!” Clark shot backwards, not wanting to hurt the Martian… he could feel the power gathering in his eyes._

 _“I can take this from you.” The Martian Manhunter insisted. “But you have to believe in me.”_

 _Superman closed his eyes and stood perfectly still, allowing J’onn to place a hand on either side of his head… as J’onn reached out with his mind both Clark and the Martian Manhunter heard an echoing voice, one which seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at the same time. “You can’t help him…” the voice whispered._

 _And then the world exploded._

 _Both heroes screamed as they were thrown in opposite directions by the blast, their vision going white… but when sight returned and their ears stopped ringing Clark found that he was standing on his own two feet… normal once more. Although the barn had been destroyed and Clark still couldn’t get the image of Rachel and Batwoman’s dead bodies out of his mind… he knew that it had only been a nightmare._

 _“Let’s finish this.“ Clark smiled as he extended a hand to J’onn, easily helping the Martian Manhunter to stand._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Batwoman was racing along a winding mountain road, pushing the Tumbler to speeds that even a NASCAR driver would think was a tad bit too fast. The Cave’s computer was currently reading out the information that it had been able to find on John Dee’s criminal history… although there wasn’t really all that much to go on. John Dee hadn’t been a “real” criminal before his exposure to that machine.

“ ** _Arrest Report: John Dee. Subject was found guarding smuggled weapons in LexCorp’s Harbor Warehouse during a search that was initiated by the Justice League. Dee was apparently a low level LexCorp Employee…_** ”

Batwoman reached up to rub at her eyes… she was running on pure adrenaline, which meant that she most likely wouldn’t have any energy stores to draw on should things get tough.

As Batwoman placed her hand back on the steering wheel she froze for the slightest fraction of seconds… John Dee, wearing his nightmare form, was standing in the middle of the road--- but not really, because almost as soon as she saw Dee his form shifted, becoming that of an oncoming truck.

The Tumbler almost didn’t make the sudden sharp turn, Batwoman almost collided with the truck-- _almost_. The side of the Tumbler scraped along the side of the truck and ended up hitting a guard rail… thankfully by that time the Tumbler had lost a good deal of speed so the guard rail kept her from falling over the side of a cliff.

Once she was sure that the car wasn’t going to go over the side of the cliff, Rachel pulled the cowl back, off her face and ran a hand through her hair, which was drenched with sweat. She allowed herself to rest her head in her hands for a split second… and as she struggled against exhaustion the dots suddenly connected.

Her right hand darted out and hit a button on the dashboard of the Tumbler, causing the computer to rewind and repeat part of Dee’s arrest warrant.

“ ** _Subject was found guarding smuggled weapons in LexCorp’s Harbor Warehouse…_** ”

“I‘ve got you, you bastard.” Batwoman growled as she yanked the cowl back into place.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 _He could see through his hands… like he was some sort of ghost. Towering in front of him, glowing with power, with potential, was a giant version of his Lantern, the battery that powered his ring. As John Stewart stared at the Lantern a door appeared on the side and a blinding white light spilled out, making him squint._

 _“Where else can you go now?” Doctor Destiny (John somehow knew that was his name) asked as despair crept into John Stewart’s heart. “You are the Lantern… and the Lantern is you. Go in now. It’s your… **destiny**.”_

 _John stepped forward, tears starting to form in his eyes as he reached out for the light, reaching with the same hand that he wore the ring on… only to find the Martian Manhunter standing in front of him._

 _“You are not an extension of this.” J’onn’s arms were spread out, blocking the path into the Lantern, into the light. “You are it’s Master.”_

 _John Stewart blinked, his body suddenly appearing just the slightest bit more solid, more **real**._

 _“The Guardians chose you because they had faith in you… not in the ring, but in John Stewart.”_

 _Doctor Destiny--- no, John Dee, leapt forward, tackling J’onn to the ground with a growl. His cape seemed to come to life and help him pin the Martian to the ground. “You’re good.” Dee growled. “But I’m better!”_

 _“That’s why I brought a friend.” J’onn replied as Superman suddenly appeared and tackled John Dee to the ground. The escaped prisoner lashed out at Clark, his cape joining in, wrapping around the Martian Manhunter and Superman before pinning them to a nearby wall._

 _At that moment John made a choice… he made his choice._

 _John Stewart ran forward, into the Green Lantern Power Battery, closing his eyes against the blinding light. He could hear John Dee laughing as all villains who think they have defeated heroes laugh… John Stewart smirked as he heard the “Doctor” cackle._

 _Giving Green Lantern access to an Battery was probably the stupidest thing that John Dee could have done._

 _  
**In brightest day, in blackest night,  
No evil shall escape my sight.  
Let those who worship evil’s might,  
Beware my power… Green Lantern’s light!**   
_

_The Lantern shattered around John Stewart as power rushed through him. In the blink of an eye John had rammed into Doctor Destiny, forcing him to drop Superman and the Martian Manhunter. The Green Lantern of Earth continued forward, bashing Destiny with all the power of his ring, forcing him away from the other members of the Justice League and half-way through a wall._

 _The escaped prisoner sunk to his knees and John sent out the power of his ring, trying to catch Dee in a bubble of energy… only for Doctor Destiny to evaporate like smoke. Once he was sure the man was gone, John turned to look at his fellow League members._

 _“Can I wake up now?” He asked with a smirk._

 _“There’s still Flash and Hawkman.” J’onn informed him, stretching out his hand and creating a new portal._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Batwoman was on the outskirts of Metropolis… but with every mile that the Tumbler traveled her eyes grew heavier and heavier. The Dark Knight found herself biting her lip as she struggled with her fatigue.

“ _You’ve got to sleep sometime._ ” John Dee’s voice was echoing in her head as her eyes started to slip closed.

Batwoman snapped herself out of the light doze she’d drifted into just in time to hit a pile of garbage cans instead of a building… out of the corner of her eye Batwoman saw a large neon sign, blinking rapidly so as to attract attention.

The Dark Knight pulled the Tumbler over and reached into a pocket on her utility belt… she’d laughed when Alfred had suggested this pocket, but it had come in handy several times. Sometimes the most unlikely to tools could be used to guarantee a successful mission.

By the time that anyone inside the building realized that the Tumbler had stopped outside she was standing behind the counter… and slamming a handful of bills down.

“Give me a triple.”

The Starbuck Barista almost fainted when he turned around to find the god damn _Batwoman_ standing at his counter.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 _“I was always afraid of this…”_

 _The Flash was fairly certain that speaking to yourself was one of the signs of madness--- but what else could he do? The world was gray, still and… extremely cold. Flash was actually shivering, wrapping his arms around himself for warmth as he looked around at the frozen city._

 _The Scarlet Speedster only just managed to hold back his tears as he took off, racing through the city… his city. “Come on!” He screamed, growing more and more desperate._

 _All that Wally West wanted to do was wake up… he wanted to open his eyes and find Hawkman teasing him about falling asleep in hs chair, to have Batwoman glaring at him for doing something childish… to wake up to Wonderwoman kneeling next to him, telling him it was time to go home._

 _“Somebody say something!” Wally wailed, dropping to his knees and howling at the grey sky._

 _“Flash!”_

 _Wally’s turned so fast that he gave himself whiplash, something he hadn’t done in years… up in the sky, emerging from a strange white square of light was the Martian Manhunter, Superman and Green Lantern._

 _“Guys!” Flash smiled so wide that his face hurt, but he didn’t care. He dashed towards the other members of the Justice League, only to scream in despair when they started to freeze. J’onn seemed to realize what was happening and he looked right at Flash as he started to speak._

 _“You need to look inside yourself…” J’onn’s voice was already slowing down._

 _“And then what?” Flash asked, his voice trembling as the color drained from the Martian Manhunter’s body._

 _“You must…”_

 _But it was too late. J’onn J’onzz was frozen, as were John Stewart and Clark Kent. Once again Wally West found himself alone in a frozen, silent world._

 _Slowly he sank to the ground, no longer able to even try to keep himself from crying. He sobbed openly, holding his head in his hands. Notonly was he trapped… but he’d gotten his friends trapped as well._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

When Rachel Wayne was in college there had been a very popular button for students to have and wear or put on their backpacks “The coffee isn’t working… get the jumper cables!” A tiny part of Batwoman’s mind was currently wondering if whoever had thought of the saying had been on to something… not even a triple shot of espresso could do much against three nights without sleep and a escaped prisoner with dream powers-- all too soon Batwoman’s eyes started to drift shut once again.

“ _Adrenalin rush wearing off?_ ” John Dee’s voice echoed in Batwoman’s mind. “ _Good… the Doctor will see you now._ ”

“I don’t think so.” Batwoman growled. She flipped the Tumbler’s air conditioning on to the coldest setting, her body immediately feeling and reacting to the shock of the temperature drop. After she’d done this Batwoman flipped on the Tumbler’s “radio”… which she’d long ago set up so that it could access Rachel Wayne’s music.

 _  
**There was a place - a little town  
Where we used to play and laugh around  
We went too far - reaching for that star  
And the light moved away from me…**   
_

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 _Flash looked up at his fellow Justice League members… before he wiped away his tears. “I’m supposed to look inside myself… but for what?” Wally sighed. “Well… there’s got to be something rattling around in here.”_

 _The Flash closed his eyes and tried to focus… although he didn’t exactly know what he was trying to focus on. In the background he could hear Doctor Destiny, who was growling at him…_

 _“Have you got any idea how stupid you look? It won’t work… no way--”_

 _ **What’s the point in being grown up if you can’t be childish sometimes?** The Flash decided to be childish… he put his hands over his ears, making it so he couldn’t hear the skull faced man._

 _At first there was nothing but the sound of his beating heart… and then, quite suddenly, something **shifted**. He could feel himself slowing down while the world sped up, and when the time was right…_

 _Wally West opened his eyes and smiled. The world was back to normal. The color had returned, the sound was back… and everyone was moving again. John, Clark and J’onn were landing next to him as he spun around and around, laughing in joy as he looked at his beautiful city._

 _“See what happens when you use your head?” Green Lantern smiled, placing a hand on Flash’s shoulder._

 _Before Flash could reply Doctor Destiny appeared, screaming in rage as he looked at the four heroes… and then John Dee proceeded to grow, until he was as tall as a building._

 _“I’ve got his eyes!” John smirked, cracking his knuckles before taking to the air._

 _“Gut.” Superman added, following John’s lead._

 _“Big toe!” Flash smirked, racing off to do his part as Destiny smashed his foot through the sidewalk where the group had been standing mere seconds before._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The Tumbler was parked and locked up outside of LexCorp Harbor warehouse… the place where John Dee had been arrested. It looked like LexCorp had decided to let the warehouse fall apart after the Justice League had found the smuggled weapons… there were holes in the walls, piles of rubble everywhere and large puddles fed by water dripping from the ceiling.

The place would have been a good setting for a horror movie. Or at least a horror movie for people who didn’t live in Gotham. (There had been actual studies done… horror movies always did significantly worse in Gotham than any other town.)

She’d switched the music over to her com link… it was playing at a very low, almost subliminal level in one ear. Low enough that she could ignore the music and listen for any signs of John Dee, but loud enough that she could use the music to keep her awake-- to keep her focused.

 _  
**And the spirit never died - the world belongs to me  
This is when I've been given time to live and see**   
_

Batwoman found herself walking through what had once been a bathroom. There was a large mirror on the wall which had somehow managed to escape being broken… and in that mirror John Dee’s nightmare form lurked.

“Coming here was the mistake of your life.…” he whispered, no doubt doing his best to sound terrifying. “You see, the closer I am to someone, the stronger I get.”

Something moved out of the corner of her eye. The Dark Knight shifted slightly and John Dee moved his image. A puddle near Batwoman’s feet moved, the water traveling upward as if trying to form something, only to collapse. Batwoman looked down at the puddle, where John’s “Doctor Destiny” form appeared, looking very smug.

“I’ll be able to go into your brain even if you’re wide awake!” John boasted.

The Dark Knight smirked and very calmly walked across the puddle, her boot coming down right on John’s stupid skull face.

“My brain’s not a nice place to be.” She whispered, resisting the urge to laugh. She didn’t touch the volume of her music… but it seemed to rise up, to surround her.

 **  
_I'll never give up! Never give in!  
Won't stop believing cause I'm gonna win  
Sing with my soul before I get old  
Cause there may be no tomorrow_   
**

“What’s that stupid song going through you’re mind?” John asked, his voice echoing out of the darkest shadows of the room.

 **  
_There is no limit to what can be done  
Climbing the mountain with power so strong  
Dusty roads - down the way  
Leaving the future behind me_   
**

“That song?” Batwoman laughed. “It’s what’s keeping you out-- _Johnny_.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 _Green Lantern blasted away at Destiny’s head, while Superman punched at his chest over and over again… but neither hero seemed to be doing much (if any) damage to John Dee. The villain laughed as he reach out and grabbed each hero, closing his fist around them._

 _“Let go of them.” J’onn shouted as he increased his size, so that he stood as tall as Doctor Destiny. John Dee dropped John Stewart and Clark to the ground as he started to wrestle the Martian Manhunter… the two seemed to be fairly evenly matched, with the surrounding city taking the most damage._

 _While J’onn J’onzz fought with Doctor Destiny the Flash was busy doing his part to take down the villian. He raced around and around the vilian’s feet, using wire from a few nearby electric lines to tie them together. “J’onn!” Flash shouted, gesturing at the lines before racing away, doing his best to distract the skull faced man._

 _While Doctor Destiny was distracted the Martian Manhunter leaned in and uppercut John Dee as hard as he could. Since his feet were tied together Destiny couldn’t stop himself from falling backwards, where he smashed through a building._

 _As soon as the dust settled the escaped prisoner snarled at the Justice League before turning into water… “This isn’t over…“ the Doctor hissed as his transformed body flowed down through the cracks in the street and vanished._

 _J’onn returned to his usual size and joined the Flash, who had been helping Green Lantern and Superman to stand._

 _“Teamwork… what a concept.” Flash smiled._

 _“What about Hawkman?” Green Lantern asked, looking between Flash and the Martian Manhunter._

 _“Help me!” Hawkman’s screaming voice made them look up. A few stories off the ground was a portal, through which they could hear Katar Hol’s cries. “Lantern! John! Superman! Anybody…”_

 _J’onn raced towards the portal… only to slam into it’s surface as if the light was a solid object. He pushed, but the invisible barrier didn’t give._

 _“What’s wrong?” Green Lantern asked, racing over to where J’onn was hovering. After he picked up Flash Superman followed closely behind._

 _“I can’t get through to him…” J’onn explained. “There’s a barrier around his mind.”_

 _“Then get out of the way!” Green Lantern growled before he unleashed the full power of his ring._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The darkness closed in around Batwoman, but she wasn’t afraid. She was no stranger to the dark places and the scum that lived there… besides, none of this was real. This was just John Dee’s parlor tricks, just an escaped prisoner trying to scare Batwoman with **his** fears.

 _  
**I got a fast car - like a rock star  
Come and join the ride with me  
Take a spin downtown  
Check out who's around  
I'll show you where you wanna be**   
_

From the darkness there emerged a new landscape, a maze of stairs going every which way… Batwoman could feel John Dee reaching, could feel him pushing against her mental barriers… trying to find her fears so that he could use them.

She couldn’t let that happen. The League Of Shadows had trained her too well… and she _really_ didn’t want to expose the Justice League to her nightmares.

“You know…” John whispered, his voice coming from all around Batwoman. “I could let you go. It’s the others I have a problem with-- We’re like insects to them!” John Dee didn’t seem to notice that Batwoman was moving. “They step on us, ruin our lives and don’t even realize it!”

John paused and the world around Batwoman got a little lighter. “But you… you’re _different_. You don’t have _any_ special powers.”

 _  
**And the spirit never dies -  
let the music take you high  
I know what it means to burn  
That's how I began to learn…**   
_

“Oh, I have one Johnny. _I never give up_.” Batwoman smirked, before closing her eyes. The music seemed to surround her, as if it were a wave washing over the Dark Knight.

 **  
_So never give up! Never give in!  
Rise from the fire if you're gonna win  
Sing with your soul - soon you'll be old  
Fight the demons inside you  
There is no limit to what can be done  
Climb every mountain with power so strong  
Dusty roads on the way - leaving the past behind you_   
**

She was “back”. The endless blackness and stairs of John Dee’s dream world had been replaced by piles of dusty boxes and trash, the echoing silence of the dream world was replaced by the muffled noises of the city outside and the drip of water inside the building.

 **  
_I've seen love in vain  
I have felt the pain  
Torn in desire  
Lead by the fire  
And as I lived it all the world became to small  
And my colors grew colder…_   
**

“What do you say _Johnny_?” Batwoman smirked as she walked forward. She could tell the escaped criminal was nearby. “It would give you something to brag about…”

From behind a mountain of boxes John Dee lunged at her, his normal body replaced by his “Doctor Destiny” form. He had a large needle in his right hand… most of Batwoman’s armor would resist the needles, but she didn’t risk it, choosing instead to grab his hand, treating the needle like a knife.

 **  
_The spirit takes me higher_   
**

John Dee was strong, or at least he was strong in his nightmare form. He managed to get her over a crate and Batwoman struggled to keep him back, to keep the needle from sinking into her body. She was willing to bet the needle had some sort of sedative… and the needle was moving closer and closer to her chest, as John Dee’s other hand tried to wrap around her neck.

 **  
_Never give up! Never give in!  
Won't stop believing cause I'm gonna win  
Sing with my soul before I get old  
What if there's no tomorrow?_   
**

Batwoman lashed out, kicking at John’s chest with all her might. The “Doctor” he flew backwards… and Batwoman ran after him. When he landed on a pile of boxes, breaking most of them, she punched him as hard as she could-- which knocked him out of his dream form and back to normal.

 **  
_There is no limit to what can be done  
Climbing the mountain with power so strong  
Dusty roads - down the way  
Leaving the memories behind me_   
**

John shook his head and pushed Batwoman away before he returned to his dream form… only to get punched in the face once more. Somehow the man got to his feet… only to get an elbow to the face, followed by a savage kick, which sent him flaying back into another stack of boxes.

He didn’t move. Batwoman cautiously approached the pile, pushing the wrecked wood away until she saw John Dee… who gasped as he pulled the now empty needle out of his chest. He mumbled something and then his eyes grew foggy.

 **  
_Use the spirit_   
**

“Sweet dreams.” Batwoman smirked as she handcuffed his hands behind his back… just to be safe.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Hawkman groaned as he opened his eyes and blinked to adjust to the light… he was lying in the Watchtower’s infirmary.

“Good morning.” Green Lantern smiled. He was standing next to the bed with Superman, the Flash and J’onn. Batwoman had somehow managed to find the only dark corner of the room to lurk in.

“Good morning…” Hawkman smiled back as he sat up, only to freeze and look around the room. “Wait a minute-- is this another dream?”

“I could pinch you!” Flash offered, a smirk on his face.

“It’s real.” Batwoman said, not moving from her corner. “John Dee is back at Stryker’s Island.”

“He tried to drug Batwoman, but ended up injecting himself with a powerful sedative.” J’onn explained.

“It trapped him in his own personal nightmare.” Batwoman finished for J’onn, a grin on her face which made a chill go down Hawkman’s spine.

As the rest of the League made preparations to head for home, Superman turned and walked over to Batwoman’s corner… he could tell that not only was Gotham’s Dark Knight using the wall to keep herself upright, but she was about five seconds from falling asleep while standing.

Clark looked around, making sure that they were alone before he spoke. “Let me help you.”

Batwoman raised one eyebrow… or at least Clark was fairly certain that she raised an eyebrow underneath the cowl. “Going to tuck me in and read me a bedtime story?” She asked, a smirk on her face.

“No. I’m going to take you back to Wayne so you don’t crash that tank you call a car.” Superman replied, crossing his arms over his chest and moving so that he was in a position to block Batwoman’s exit.

Batwoman opened her mouth, but before she could say anything a yawn spilled out. She blinked and glared at Superman, as if the yawn was his fault. “I’ll be fine Kent. I’ll teleport down to the Tumbler, the _car_ is programmed to take me to my base.”

“Then I’m walking you to the teleport.” Clark mumbled and a tiny smile appeared on Batwoman’s face. She shrugged and stepped past Superman, heading towards the teleport.

Superman stayed a few steps behind Batwoman as she made her way through the Watchtower. When they reached the teleported Batwoman turned around to look at the Man of Steel. The two heroes were alone in the large room.

“Out of curiosity…” Batwoman’s face was neutral, revealing nothing to Clark’s eyes. “What did you he make you see?”

A chill went up Superman’s spine as the image of Batwoman’s blood on his hands raced through his mind. He took one or two deep breaths before he answered the Dark Knight’s question. “My powers were out of control. I was hurting those I cared for.”

“Clark I’m not a meta… I don’t have any special powers.” Batwoman crossed her arms over her chest. “And I’m _terrified_ of what I could do. If my _worst_ nightmare was just _losing_ control… I’d sleep a lot easier.”

Before Superman could say anything the teleport activated and the Dark Knight left the Watchtower.

“I wonder what your nightmare would have been…” Clark whispered to the empty room. “I wonder if that’s what really kept you fighting… the fear of exposing your mind to the League.”

  
__  


  
_Author's Notes: The episodes which Chapters 14 & 15 are based on ("Only A Dream" Part I & II) are perhaps my favorite episodes of the entire show, although I do kinda wish we could have seen Batman's nightmares._   


_The dress that Rachel is wearing in Clark's dream is_   
_  
[   
this dress   
](http://www.whitehouseblackmarket.com/store/browse/product.jsp?maxRec=1&pageId=1&viewAll=&productId=570017030&prd=Sleeveless+Chiffon+Gown&subCatId=&color=001&fromSearch=true&inSeam=&posId=1&catId=&cat=&onSale=&colorFamily=&maxPg=1&size=)   
... I want this dress.   
_

_The song that Batwoman uses to fight off Doctor Destiny is called[ "Spirit Never Dies" by MasterPlan](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EB92K56U1Vo)_   
  
_. **GO LISTEN TO IT. IT IS AMAZING.**_   


_"What’s the point in being grown up if you can’t be childish sometimes?" is a quote from the British TV show Doctor Who._


	16. Cadit Quaestio

  
  
_  
**Cadit Quaestio = Latin for “The Question Drops”**   
_   


It was a minor miracle that Batwoman was able to reach the Tumbler and strap herself in before she fell asleep. Of course Alfred had anticipated this, so the Wayne Family Butler simply activated the Tumbler’s on-board computer, which could pilot the car on it’s own. When the “Batmobile” returned to the cave Alfred not only managed to get her out of the Batsuit and upstairs to her bedroom, but he managed to do so without waking Rachel up.

Rachel Wayne emerged from her bed eight hours later, waking up just long enough to take a shower and stumble back into her bed, towel still wrapped around her head. Eight hours passed before her stomach woke her… and Alfred was already standing by the side of her bed with a giant plate of banana pancakes.

Alfred ignored his employer’s (temporarily) horrible manners and informed her that, for the next three days, she would not be allowed to put on the Batsuit unless Gordon lit the signal or the League contacted her. Rachel knew better then to disobey Alfred… although it helped that he withheld the maple syrup and hot chocolate until the Dark Knight agreed to his terms.

So Rachel Wayne rested. She caught up on the sleep that she desperately needed and allowed Alfred to pamper her… and luckily Gotham was, for those three days, a quiet town. On the fourth day, as if he’d known about Alfred’s terms and had decided to honor them, the Joker escaped from Arkham, silently vanishing from his cell in the middle of the night.

On Batwoman’s first day of enforced bed rest J’onn had sent her the contact information for the Question. The Martian Manhunter believed that the two non-powered heroes could benefit from contacting each other… and since Rachel had nothing better to do, she’d sent the Question a brief email.

It had only taken one exchange of emails for the two to like each other… and after two or three exchanges the two became--- well friends, or at least as close to “friends” as two masked heroes could be.

The Question had already carved out a spot for himself as the Justice League’s unofficial “Data Guy”. When members of the Justice League found themselves in possession of data which was beyond their ability to analyze or in need of data they couldn’t get they turned to the Question… who always exceeded expectations, even if talking with the man meant listening to his conspiracy theories.

The Question was also the only other member of the Justice League who had kept his identity a secret--- from _everyone_. There were several members whose identities were not know to the League at large, but those members told their real names to one or two of the six founders. Apparently J’onn J’onzz and Superman were the most popular choices, with Wonderman and the Flash tied for third.

Only the Question and Batwoman had kept their real names a complete secret… and while some League members still thought that Batwoman would eventually reveal her identity most of the League had given up on learning the Question’s real name or what exactly he looked like behind his “creepy” mask. In fact most of the League had stopped paying attention to the Question, thinking that he was just a minor heor with a lot of conspiracy theories… and the Question seemed to encourage this belief. In fact when he’d first replied to Batwoman’s email the man without a face had thrown his wildest conspiracy theories at her.

Batwoman had replied to the Question’s email with information that confirmed one of his theories and disproved the others… and she’d also provided all the documentation needed for the Question to figure out how to hack into all the databases that she’d hacked in order to get that information. At the end of her email she’d summarized her expertise and offered to teach the Question anything he wanted… as long as he taught her something in return.

Batwoman and the Question each specialized in a slightly different area of investigation… but the Dark Knight was fairly certain that the Question’s detective skills were almost an even match for her own. It didn’t take long for the Question to give Batwoman an open invite to enter Hub City… and not long afterwards Batwoman actually returned the favor, giving the Question an open invitation to enter Gotham.

Two days after Alfred allowed her back on to the streets of Gotham Batwoman took the Question up on his offer… during the course of their online conversations the Question had mentioned a recent case that he’d helped Green Arrow deal with. Right before the two had apprehended the crooks the Question had found himself standing on top a crumbling building. Ollie had escaped using one of his arrows, but the Question had no choice but to leap to another building… and although he’d made the jump he’d almost broken several bones and had managed to dislocate his left arm.

So Batwoman had offered to supply the Question with a grappling hook… and when the man accepted she’d personally gone to Hub City, to drop off the hook and help the Question learn how to use it. After all, the first time that Batwoman had tried out the grappling hook she’d yanked her arm out it’s socket and narrowly escaped breaking her legs.

Crime and corruption in Hub City was probably just as bad as Gotham… although the Question’s chosen city had more corruption and fewer really deranged criminal masterminds. Hub City was also built much closer to the ground then Gotham, with fewer tall buildings-- however the city was built up enough that the Question would definitely make good use of the grappling gun.

Teaching the Question how to use the grappling gun was… well it was fun. The Question was a quick learner and easily picked up the finer points of using the device, so the actual teaching part of the night had passed rather quickly. For several hours Batwoman accompanied the Question on his rounds. It didn’t take the two long to figure out that they worked well together.

The press, of course, had a field day. They hadn’t managed to get any pictures of the Question and Batwoman… but the Dark Knight had given one of her batarangs to a young woman whom they’d saved from a group of drunk frat boys. So the papers had run a photograph of the young woman holding the batarang with a huge smile on her face as she talked about how amazing the two had been.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It had been a little less then three weeks since the Dark Knight had found herself face to face with John Dee. Batwoman was in her cave, looking over some data that J’onn had sent her… it wasn’t anything special, just some strange numbers in the financial records of a businessman who might be connected to organized crime. All she had to do was run a lot of numbers and do some fact checking… but she’d gotten stuck. There was definitely _something_ there, but Batwoman couldn’t figure out what that something was--- so she’d sent the data off to the Question, hoping that the faceless hero would be able to catch whatever it was she was missing.

With a soft sigh Batwoman slid her chair away from the computer and picked up her cowl, quickly pulling it over her head. She pulled on her gloves and was checking that the rest of her suit was on properly when the computer beeped angrily at her… and behind her the elevator opened to reveal Alfred, who was carrying a coffee pot and two cups.

“Trouble miss?” Her oldest friend asked as he approached the computer.

“Maybe… there’s been some strange activity on Lyle Bolton’s accounts. Several thousand dollars worth of purchases at a mob owned bakery.”

“Lyle Bolton… the former Arkham Security Guard?” Alfred asked as he handed Rachel a cup of coffee.

“Yes.” Rachel replied, blowing on the black liquid to cool it down. “He’s definitely back in Gotham.”

Six months ago Jonathan Crane, who preferred to be called “the Scarecrow” had broken out of Arkham. But the “Master of Fear” hadn’t broke out to resume his life of crime. When the Dark Knight caught up with the former Doctor he had admitted that the only reason he’d escaped from Arkham was to get away fro the newest security gurad on the Intensive Treatment Unit--- a man named Lyle Bolton.

It hadn’t taken long for warning bells to start ringing… Bolton had been discharged from Gotham’s Police Academy for being too gung ho. He’d work for several security companies before Wayne Enterprises (then under the leadership of William Earle) had employed him as a security guard. He’ remained employed until Lucius had been gearing up to hold an investigation into the Security Department, at which time he’d been nominated for a position at Arkham Asylum. Wayne Enterprises had given the Asylum a grant to improve security and a guard trained in the latest high tech security systems… a guard whose salary would be paid by Wayne Enterprises and the Wayne Foundation.

At first there had been no complaints… but then Aaron Cash had gone on a one week vacation, which meant that Lyle Bolton was effectively the Chief of Security on the Intensive Treatment Unit and that was when Scarecrow escaped. Rachel Wayne had called for a review of the man’s performance--- which resulted in Bolton being dismissed from his position.

Bolton had to be escorted out of Arkham by a swarm of orderlies and guards. The press had been waiting outside the Asylum’s gates and the moment Lyle Bolton stepped outside he was surrounded by the swarm of reporters and cameramen. Most men would have kept their head down and fled… but Bolton had stepped up on his soapbox and given the press what they wanted--- a sound bite.

“Before I came here Arkham was a revolving door for every maniac in Gotham. I kept them in, _me_. Now I realize that I was wrong to punish those pathetic miscreants… because they’re not the cause! The gutless police! The mindless bureaucrats! The coddling doctors! You should all be locked up, in a cage without a key! This city is an open wound, _begging_ to be stitched!”

And then the man had vanished for six months. It was as if Lyle Bolton had dropped off the face of the earth… but now, at least according to his credit records, he was back in Gotham, spending thousands of dollars at a mob owned bakery.

“I’m going on patrol.” Rachel said as she finished her cup of coffee. “Contact me if anything else turns up on Bolton.”

“Are you worried about him interacting with your Rouge’s Gallery?” Alfred asked.

Rachel sighed as she thought about the question… Bolton wouldn’t go after anyone inside Arkham Asylum or Blackgate Prison. Most of Batwoman’s “Rouge’s Gallery” was currently behind bars. There were only four criminals at large: the Joker, Two-Face, Catwoman and Bane.

Catwoman was somewhere in or around Los Angeles… on vacation. She’d sent Batwoman a postcard (care of Commissioner Gordon). The card had urged Batwoman to “Visit Beautiful Bat Country” and on the back Selina Kyle had drawn a little black cat cuddling a fluffy bat. Below the drawing the cat burglar had written “Don’t worry, I’ll come back to play with my favorite flying rodent soon.”

Bane was also away from Gotham… in fact the female juggernaut had left the country. She’d been seen boarding a flight to South America, but the authorities had quickly lost the trail. Batwoman hadn’t felt any real pressure to follow her. Bane’s last job had been stopped by the Dark Knight, who managed to destroy Bane’s equipment and her supply of venom. It would take some time for Bane to replace her supplies… and the strong woman was too smart to allow Batwoman to locate her during that time.

Batwoman was fairly certain that the Joker and Two-Face were most likely still in Gotham… but neither crook was active. The former District Attorney had been injured pretty badly during her last heist, so it was safe to assume that Hannah Dent was holed up somewhere, licking her wounds.

The Joker was out… but Batwoman didn’t really know why the Clown Prince of Crime was lying low. It could be that the Joker was preparing for a very large heist… or he could just have the criminal mastermind’s equivalent of writer’s block. (It _had_ happened before…)

“I don’t think so.” Rachel finally decided. “Bolton isn’t a good enough detective to find Two-Face or the Joker… and hopefully he’s sane enough to run if he does encounter them.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Batwoman’s patrol brought along the usual supply of small time crooks, one or two more “professional” criminals and of course the practically never ending war against the drug dealers who seemed to have decided that the Narrows was their new base of operations. At least the Scarecrow was behind bars, so Batwoman didn’t have to worry about getting hit with the latest version of fear gas.

After making her usual patrol of the city Batwoman headed towards the Bowery… where the majority of Gotham’s prostitutes lived and worked. The Dark Knight had struck up an informal arrangement with the “working girls” long ago. As long as the women kept themselves clean and shuffled underage girls off to programs that would get them off the streets, the Dark Knight protected them, making sure the police stayed honest, the pimps left them alone and the johns weren’t rough. Batwoman had also set up a phone number that the women could call… although frequently Batwoman didn’t even need to make an appearance, just the _threat_ of calling in Batwoman would send a would-be pimp or rough john running scared.

In return for the Dark Knight’s protection the prostitutes of Gotham had become some of her best informants… the last time Jervis Tetch had escaped from Arkham Batwoman had gotten a call from a blond prostitute named Amy, who had been propositioned by the so-called “Mad Hatter”. She’d accepted, only to handcuff the escaped inmate to a cheap motel bed and call in Batwoman. There’d been a reward for information leading to the Mad Hatter’s capture and Amy had used that money to go back to school… she’d actually been hired by Wayne Enterprises only a few weeks ago.

Batwoman had left the Tumbler near Police Headquarters and head been patrolling Gotham on foot and grappling hook. She’d used the rooftops to get to the Bowery and dropped down into a small alley that branched off of the neighborhood’s main drag. It didn’t take long for one of the girls to catch sight of her and soon Batwoman was surrounded by a swarm of women in short skirts, skinny jeans and high heels. Despite their number the women were fairly well organized, quickly sharing information with the Dark Knight.

One of the more “experienced” women stepped forward, her arm around the shoulder of the newest member of the world’s oldest profession. The newcomer was young, probably only a few months past her eighteenth birthday. She was painfully thin and had a nasty looking black eye--- it didn’t take a genius to realize that she’d been forcibly moved to Gotham by a pimp who didn’t know that Gotham’s girls were protected. When the new girl realized that her pimp would never hurt her again she broke down sobbing.

After Batwoman made sure that the young woman had somewhere safe to spend the night she left the Bowery… and paid a visit to the girl’s former pimp. If the oily little man was smart he’d be out of Gotham before the sun rose.

The Dark Knight was making her way back to the Tumbler. She was passing by “My Alibi” a hole in the wall bar near the center of Gotham, when Alfred contacted her… several prominent members of the city had been kidnapped in rapid succession by a large man wearing a black ski mask.

Mayor Hill had been the first. He’d been at home, watching TV with his wife when the nearest window had been smashed in. Hill’s wife had caught a glimpse of a large man with a black ski mask before the kidnapper threw a smoke grenade. When the smoke cleared the wife had found herself alone in the house.

Doctor Bartholomew had been at an upscale restaurant, having dinner with Summer Gleeson, an up and coming news reporter for WXRX, the local NBC station. He’d been walking the reporter to her car when an unmarked truck had cut them off. A large man in a black ski mask had handcuffed the two and shoved them into the back of said truck and racing off.

It was believed that the same man was responsible for both kidnappings, and the length of time between the Mayor and the Doctor’s abductions meant that Hill had probably been tied up in the back of the truck with the Doctor and the reporter were taken… so far no demands had been issued.

As Alfred “hung up” the Batsignal lit up the night sky. Before Batwoman could really realize that the signal was lit the Dark Knight was moving, gliding over the streets of Gotham, swinging from her grappling hook as she made her way to Police Headquarters. She landed silently on a corner of the roof and moved towards the Batsignal, intending to surprise Gordon, like she usually did… but James Gordon wasn’t on the roof.

“Commissioner?” Batwoman called out as she stepped into the light.

“Some guy calling himself Lock-Up took him.” Handcuffed to the base of the Batsignal was Renne Montoya, a young woman whom Gordon had recently promoted to Detective. The handcuffs around her wrists weren’t police issue-- they were bulkier and had an electronic lock. “The Commissioner wanted to talk with you about the kidnappers, but before he turned on the signal some guy grabbed him and gave me these new bracelets.”

Batwoman knelt down next to Montoya and quickly removed the cuffs from the detective’s wrists. “This ‘Lock-Up’ is he the same guy who kidnapped the mayor?” She asked, placing the cuffs in a pocket on her utility belt.

“Seems like it.” Renee replied, rubbing at her wrists were the cuffs had been. “Really large guy, tall, lots of muscles and a black ski ma…” The Detective trailed off as a shiver raced down Batwoman’s spine--- someone was watching them. Batwoman could feel it. Renne Montoya could feel it. Lock-Up had taken Montoya’s gun, but Renee quickly shifted to a combat stance as Batwoman’s eyes swept over the nearby rooftops.

Batwoman stepped in front of Detective Montoya as a man stepped out of the shadows. “That’s him.” Renee whispered.

The man had a cheap black ski mask covering his face… which was a very poor attempt at hiding his identity, since he was still wearing the uniform of an Arkham Asylum Security Guard. Other then the ski mask he’d added two large metal shoulder pads, which connected to each other in front and in back by a large chain. Attached to his belt were a couple of the strange handcuffs and a police baton.

Anyone who got a good look at “Lock-Up” and was reasonably up to date on happenings in Gotham would probably be able to guess that he was Lyle Bolton… and Batwoman had interacted with Bolton enough that she was _sure_ that Gotham’s latest masked criminal was Lyle Bolton, back for revenge on those he felt were responsible for his dismissal from Arkham.

“Lock-Up I presume.” Batwoman crossed her arms over her chest, making sure that Montoya was still behind her. She trusted that the Detective could take care of herself, but she’d preferred that it not come to that.

“Batwoman.” Bolton smiled beneath the ski mask, causing the black fabric to shift “The time has come to cleanse Gotham of the _real_ criminals… you apprehend them Dark Knight and I, Lock-Up, will put them away!” He stepped forward and extended his hand, clearly thinking that Batwoman would shake it. “Together we can make this city safe again!”

“By kidnapping innocent victims?” Batwoman growled as she glared at Bolton. “I don’t think so.”

“Lock-Up” actually seemed to be surprised by Batwoman’s answer and for a second he just stood there, his hands extended as he stared at the Dark Knight. “If you’re not part of the solution…” Batwoman resisted the urge to smirk, she could practically see the gears turning in Bolton’s head. “Then you’re part of the problem!”

The former Security Guard lunged at Batwoman, who quickly and easily deflected the man’s angered blows. As she traded punches with Bolton she saw Renee run to one side, pulling out her radio and shouting for backup… and then Bolton got lucky. He managed to surprise Batwoman, brining up his baton and slamming it into the side of the Dark Knight’s head, sending her stumbling backwards, her ears ringing.

But instead of taking advantage of the situation and attacking the Dark Knight Lock-Up moved towards Renee, cutting off her escape route. The Detective did her best to evade Bolton’s grasp, but he had her pinned in a corner… Montoya was no damsel in distress, she could probably have handled herself against a normal attacker, but Bolton was large, strong and used to dealing with Arkham inmates.

It was all too easy for Bolton to grab the Detective.

Batwoman quickly recovered from the blow Bolton had dealt to her head and was about to charge at the former Security Guard… but Bolton was holding Montoya in front of him, using her as a human shield. He slowly backed towards the edge of the roof, probably planning on tossing Renee at Batwoman and making his escape… when Renee Montoya slammed her fist down into Bolton’s groin.

The man howled like a wounded animal… and Batwoman wondered why on earth Bolton _hadn’t_ added padding or some type of armor to that area of his “costume”. Lock-Up was still obviously in pain when he tossed Renee away from him… which sent the Detective flying over the side of the building.

Batwoman ran forward, not bothering to deal with Bolton. She dove forward, going over the side of the building… she could tell that Bolton was making his escape, but Batwoman was too concerned with saving Detective Montoya.

As she dove over the side of the building the Dark Knight saw the end of a grappling hook shoot past her and heard it catch on a nearby building. She quickly followed the line down to the grappling hook it had been shot out of… a grappling hook which was in the Question’s gloved hands. The faceless hero was dangling from the grappling hook she’d given him, with Renee Montoya clinging to his side.

The Question had caught the Detective in midair and was making his way towards the ground. Batwoman quickly extended her cape, allowing her to glide safely to the ground where the Question already stood. The hero from Hub City had one hand on Montoya’s shoulder, obviously the Detective was more then a little shaken up by her experience. Batwoman stepped forward and Renee’s attention almost instantly shifted to the Dark Knight.

“Lock-Up’s real name is Lyle Bolton.” Batwoman informed the Detective. “He was fired from Arkham Asylum six months ago.”

“I’ll get the force working on it.” Renne replied, glancing back at the man who’d saved her life. “The Question… right?” The faceless hero nodded silently. “Thank you.” Montoya smiled before heading towards the nearest entrance to police headquarters.

“So what brings you to Gotham?” Batwoman asked the Question, shifting so that her cape closed around her.

“J’onn had some documents and I offered to deliver them. I was about to contact you when I saw the signal. I arrived just as…” The Question trailed off, gesturing in the direction that Montoya had gone.

“Detective Renne Montoya.” Batwoman replied.

“As the Detective fell. I… I apologize for entering Gotham without your permission.” The Question added, shifting awkwardly, one hand rising to pull his blue fedora down low on his head.

“I appreciate the apology, even though it isn’t needed. I gave you permission to operate in Gotham.” Batwoman smiled and the Question visibly relaxed. “Since you’re already here, how about helping me take ‘Lock-Up’ down?”

“It would be my pleasure.” The Question replied, cracking his knuckles as he followed Batwoman down the alley, towards the nearest real street. “So… security guard turned criminal?”

“Lyle Bolton kidnapped Mayor Hill, Commissioner Gordon, Doctor Bartholmew and Summer Gleeson---”

“Reporter for WXRX, hosts the evening news with Andre Loewen.”

“You’ve done your homework.” Batwoman smirked as she summoned the Tumbler. “Bolton believes the men are responsible for Gotham’s criminals… Gleeson was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

The Tumbler pulled to a stop in front of the two heroes, it’s engine practically purring and it seemed to be waiting for the two heroes to climb inside. The Question whistled before he reached out and ran a hand over the car… Batwoman was tempted to make a comment about boys and their toys, but it was _her_ ridiculously fast and powerful car and she had pretty much done the same thing the first time Lucius had shown her the Tumbler.

So instead of mocking the Question’s response in any way shape or form Batwoman simply opened the Tumbler’s hatch and climbed in.

“… and to think that all I have is a beat up old Pontiac GTO.” The Question laughed as he sat down in the passenger seat.

“I couldn’t see you in anything like this.” Batwoman replied as the Tumbler’s doors closed and she took control of her ‘Batmobile’. “It’s not your style Q.”

“But it is your style Batwoman.” Question smirked, ignoring the opportunity to give the Dark Knight a nickname, even in jest.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Batwoman had gone to Hub City the Question had trusted her enough to take the Dark Knight to one of his safe houses… it would have been terribly impolite and reflected rather badly upon Alfred’ parenting skills _not_ to return the favor. Besides, the computers in the “mini-cave” would make Bolton’s hideout much easier to find.

The computers in the auxiliary cave was a (slightly) smaller and (slightly) less powerful version of the computer that Rachel and Alfred had set up in the cave under Wayne Manor… they had been set up so that Rachel and Alfred could work on different things at the same time. Programs could be opened on one screen and sent to the other, they could be accessed at the same time and function independently or cooperatively.

“Impressive set up.” The Question remarked as he took control of the ‘second’ station, leaving the first one for Batwoman to operate. “Although I trust this isn’t your home base.”

“Of course not.” Batwoman smirked, waking the computer form it’s sleep mode.

“So what do we know?” The Question asked.

“I’ve been keeping an eye on Lyle Bolton’s account since he was fired from Arkham.” Batwoman explained as she brought up the relevant data.

“He was fired six months ago?” The Question asked, quickly skimming over the data. “But two days ago he cleaned out his accounts by buying _wedding cakes_?”

“The bakery’s a front for the mob, the purchases are legitimate transfers of money, but not of goods… it drew enough attention that the state is finally filing RICO charges.” Batwoman explained. “Bolton’s become a criminal, but he still believes himself to be on the ‘right side’… however there’s a big differences between his paychecks and bank statement--- Bolton must have been turning the majority of his salary into cash.”

“I assume you’ve had his residence watched?” The Question asked as he leaned back in his chair.

“He hasn’t been there for five months… and the place isn’t big enough to hold one person captive, let alone five.” Batwoman sighed as she pulled out the cuffs that she’d taken off of Renne Montoya. She turned them over in her hands… the locking mechanism was a pretty sophisticated little bit of technology. To unlock them you needed to enter a password.

“May I?” The Question asked, leaning forward and holding out his hand.

“Bolton put them on Montoya.” Batwoman explained as she passed him the cuffs.

The Question fiddled with them for a few seconds before speaking. “I’ve seen this design before…”

Batwoman blinked and looked at the cuffs again… they _did_ look familiar. “Some sort of military prototype?” She suggested.

“Yes.” The Question placed the cuffs on the desk and shifted so that he could use the keyboard… in a few seconds he’d managed to hack into an extremely top secret government archive. “Rejected by the Government. Password locks are almost impossible to secure if more then one or two people need to be able to unlock them. Also they were set to deliver a electric shock if tampered with, but they would frequently shock the wearer for no reason.” The Question summarized. “But how did Lyle Bolton get them?”

“Through his job.” Batwoman replied, brining up Bolton’s employment records. “Bolton worked for Wayne Enterprises for several years prior to his employment at Arkham Asylum.”

“But LexCorp developed these cuffs.” The Question replied, dangling the cuffs from one finger.

“During the time Bolton was employed William Earle was trying to get some good press--”

“Since he was responsible for Rachel Wayne’s disappearance and attempting to brainwash the Wayne heir.” The Question muttered. “Good thing it didn’t work.”

Batwoman blinked in confusion before she realized that the Question must have been referencing one of his conspiracy theories… and she found herself strangely flattered.

“Earle leant several security guards to the city.” Batwoman continued. “Blackgate Prison was being renovated and the inmates were temporarily housed on a decommissioned battleship, the USS Halsey F-84.”

“The government used that ship to try out new technology.” The Question said as he scrolled through the information that Batwoman had brought up. “And the USS Halsey was abandoned when the remodel was done.”

“What better place to start your own prison?” Batwoman smirked.

“I don’t suppose you’ve got a ‘Bat-Boat’ we can use?” The Question asked, turning to face Batwoman.

“I don’t have a boat… yet. But I do have a jet.” Batwoman replied. “It’ll be here in a few seconds.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When construction on Blackgate Prison was finished the military hadn’t wanted to take the USS Halsey back… and Gotham hadn’t been able to think of a use for the decommissioned ship. There’d been talk of towing the ship out and sinking it to create a fish habitat, but so far there’d been a lot of talk and not much action. As a result the ship had remained anchored off the coast of Gotham. Since the ship had no weapons or anything remotely useful it had been mostly forgotten about.

As the Batjet approached Lock-Up’s base of operations Batwoman turned on the jet’s cloaking technology and switched over to the silent mode… which meant that the powerful plane made less noise then the waves lapping against the nearby coast and the ship’s hull.

Alfred had been the one to suggest that the Jet be able to land in the ocean or any other reasonably large body of water… this was the first time (other then training) that Batwoman had actually used this feature and she was pleasantly surprised by how well the air to water transition went. The ability to make a water landing was exceptionally useful in this case, since the only other way that Batwoman could have gotten on the to USS Halsey was by putting the jet in hover mode and jumping off… and the Question didn’t have a very expensive cape that could slow his descent.

Batwoman quickly scanned the ship using the jet’s sensors… although the steel of the decommissioned battleship was thick it was no match for the latest Wayne Corp technology. It was easy to see the areas that Bolton had modified… and the heat signatures of Lock-Up’s captives.

The Question had been sitting in the backseat. He’d leaned forward to go over the ship’s layout with Batwoman. “I’ll shut down the power source and get the hostages.” The Question decided.

“Gotham PD should be here in…” Batwoman paused to do some quick calculations. “Ten minutes. The jet won’t fit all of them, but worst case scenario they can sit on the wings and it should keep floating.”

“And you’ll worry about Bolton.” The Question replied as Batwoman opened up the jet’s hatch. The two heroes stood up in the cockpit and shot off their grappling hooks, which enabled them to scale the side of the ship.

With one final glance at each other the two went their separate ways, the Question heading left towards the modified areas, while Batwoman went right… acting as if she couldn’t see the turret that was turning to follow her.

At the last moment she ducked and rolled as the turret fired… it appeared that Bolton had given up on trying to convince the Dark Knight to join him on his quest to cleanse Gotham… and that he had no aversion to killing those who disagreed with him.

For all of Bolton’s experience he was used to managing the security in prisons… where everything was already in place and had been designed by others. It appeared that he’d simply followed the original security plans from the days when the USS Halsey was functioning as Gotham’s main prison… Bolton had merely reinstalled the cameras and added a few traps which were too deadly for use in a real prison. But the security plan Bolton was going by was still the old one, the one from the day before Batwoman, from the time when Rachel Wayne was wandering the world… and they had been designed for Blackgate inmates, for criminals whose escape attempts weren’t as elaborate as even the dumbest inmate of Arkham’s escape plans.

So, for Batwoman, getting around the cameras, traps and locked doors was almost _too_ easy… in what seemed like seconds Batwoman went from dodging gunfire to hiding in the shadows of Lock-Up’s control room.

Bolton was following the Question on his cameras, activating traps that the hero from Hub City was escaping with relative ease… as the Question dodged a pair of mechanical arms and hurled something at the camera Bolton had been observing him on the ex-security guard laughed.

“You think that was my last defense?” He smirked, reaching forward to activate some new trap… but Batwoman chose that moment to act, delivering a flying kick to the man’s ski mask covered head.

“It’s over Bolton.” Batwoman stated as Lock-Up turned to face her.

Bolton clumsily swung at Batwoman, his ears probably still ringing from her kick. The Dark Knight easily dodged his attack, going up and over him, ending up standing next to the televisions which displayed the feed from the numerous security cameras.

“Face it Bolton-- you’ve already lost.” Batwoman said, gesturing to one of the televisions, where the Question could be seen, hacking into Bolton’s main server and releasing the prisoners.

“No!” Bolton growled, launching himself at Batwoman. Although she managed to parry the blow, Bolton was stronger then her and the Dark Knight was sent flying backwards, smashing into the computers. Luckily her suit absorbed most of the blow, but it still hurt… and Bolton was running away, towards the part of the ship were the prisoners and the Question were.

As Batwoman raced after him she realized that, somehow, the ship hard started to move… and it was heading towards a rocky stretch of water. After the construction on Blackgate Prison was finished the USS Halsey had been stripped of anything remotely useful… including a good amount of the metal on it’s inner hull, which had been melted down and reused. If the ship hit the rocks it would, most likely, sink like a stone.

Batwoman just hoped the Question could get the hostages out before that happened.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Lock-Up’s computers had been extremely easy to hack… most likely the man had believed that no one would be able to get to them in the first place. In a matter of seconds the Question had opened the doors to the cells where the Doctor, Mayor, Reporter and Commissioner were held… but it from the security cameras it seemed that they’d been tied to the walls with old fashioned cuffs, the kind whose locks opened using keys.

The Question had noticed that the ship was moving as he made his way form computer to hostages… but it wasn’t like he could really do anything about it. His job was to free the prisoners, not to stop the ship from sinking.

When the Question entered the area where Bolton’s hostages were the Doctor, Mayor and Reporter had all visibly reacted to his presence… with shock. Only Commissioner Gordon smiled slightly when he saw the Question’s “face”.

“What… who are you?” The Doctor stammered, terror clear in his voice. He actually shied away from the Question when the faceless man stepped into the cells.

“Friend of Batwoman. Member of the Justice League.” The Question replied, picking the Commissioner’s cuffs first. When his hands were free Gordon took the pick from the Question and moved to help the hero free the others. The Question smirked, he could see why Batwoman liked the man.

“What happened to your face?” Summer Gleeson asked, shivering slightly.

“Overdosed on acne medication.” The Question replied, moving to free the Doctor as water started rushing into the cell.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Bolton hadn’t run very far, he’d simply found a section of the ship where there was some room to maneuver. Bolton had also produced a length of chain from… well from somewhere and was swinging it like a lasso… it appeared that he was making a last stand, and ignoring how the ship was tilting violently to one side.

“I was working with you Batwoman!” Bolton growled. “You apprehended the scum of the Earth and I would keep them locked away!”

“I’ve seen how you treat your prisoners…” Batwoman replied, slowly backing away from the swinging chain as Bolton started walking towards her. It had started to rain, which made the slanting deck slippery, it took a lot of concentration to keep her balance. “Forgotten and scared, without hope or compassion.”

“Can it be you actually care for those creatures?” Bolton spat. “You’re just as crazy as they are!”

Bolton swung the chain and Batwoman threw herself backwards, only just managing to pull off a sort of summersault and escape from the chain… which left a dent in the metal of the deck. Before Lock-Up could take another swing at the Dark Knight the ship took a suddenly nosedive.

Both Batwoman and Bolton forgot their fight for a moment in an effort to stay standing. The two ended up standing almost toe to toe on top of the ship, which was almost completely vertical. Behind Batwoman there was a sheer drop… or what would have been a sheer drop if not for the ships two propellers, which were still turning.

“We could have rid Gotham of the fools in City Hall _and_ the Police Department!” Bolton shouted. He was holding the length of chain in both hands, as if he was planning on strangling Batwoman with it. “We could have made our own order!”

“I was born to fight your brand of order.” Batwoman growled back.

“If that’s your decision…” Bolton swung the chain, but before it could hit her the Dark Knight threw one of her batarangs. The thrown weapon collided painfully with Bolton’s hand, causing him to drop the chain, which slid off the side of the ship and vanished into the water below.

So instead of hitting Batwoman with the chain Bolton charged towards the masked woman like a football player… and the Dark Knight found that she had nowhere to go. She couldn’t doge to either side, because she’d roll off the ship. She could vault over Bolton because then he’d fall into the propellers and she’d fall off the other side of the ship… all she could do was stand her ground and hope she was strong enough.

Bolton smashed into Batwoman and she flew backwards, tumbling down, past what was usually the bottom of the ship’s hull. Before she could send out her grappling hook she landed on the rudder face down… and Bolton landed on top of her, knocking the air from her lungs.

It was all too easy for the large man to pin the Dark Knight against the rudder, his hands going around her neck and squeezing as the rudder slowly tilted due to the combined weight of hero and villain. As the rudder tilted it took Lock-Up and Batwoman closer and closer to one of the propellers… which was soon uncomfortably close to the Dark Knight’s neck.

She had armor around her neck. Armor which would most likely prevent Bolton from successfully choking her… but it wasn’t enough to prevent a propeller from cutting her head off. Bolton was too large for Batwoman to get him off her back and she didn’t have enough room to move her arms so that she could strike at a weak point. But there was some muck on the propeller…

Batwoman could feel the breeze coming off the propellers as she grabbed a handful of the muck and chucked it up at where she hoped Lyle Bolton’s eyes were. The man reacted without thinking, pulling back to wipe at his eyes… but not pulling back enough for Batwoman to free herself. Realizing what the Dark Knight had done Bolton laughed, grabbing Batwoman’s arms and tying them behind her back with her own cuffs.

“Batwoman!”

The Dark Knight could hear the Question calling out to her, but she was distracted from figuring out where he was by Lock-Up kicking her in the stomach, which caused her to curl into a fetal position as she groaned in pain. She could see Lyle out of the corner of her eye, getting read to kick her again.

And a plan formed in Batwoman’s mind. It wasn’t the best plan, in fact it was much of a plan at all… but it was the only plan she could think of.

As Bolton’s foot came down to kick her again Batwoman threw herself around, using her bound hands to grab hold of Bolton’s ankle-- which threw the large man off balance. Bolton fell, tumbling over the side… and pulling Batwoman along with him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It had been difficult, with the ship vertical, water pouring in and four civilians in tow, three of whom were almost completely useless… but the Commissioner kept his cool and, eventually, they found a door, which opened in such a way that it faced the rudder and propellers… where Batwoman was lying, her hands cuffed behind her back and Lock-Up standing over her.

“Batwoman!” The Question called out as Lock-Up delivered a savage kick to Gotham’s Dark Knight. In a second the Question was on the rudder, moving towards Bolton, with Commissioner Gordon close behind him. Bolton kicked at Batwoman again and she grabbed Bolton’s leg, causing the man to fall… which made both Batwoman and Lock-Up fall off the rudder, past the propellers and into the turbulent waters below.

The Question leaned as far over the side of the rudder as he could without sliding off… but there was no sign of Batwoman or Lyle Bolton in the waves below.

“Batwoman?” he called out, not knowing what to expect, not knowing what to do. Her arms had been bound when she’d gone into the water, and Bolton had fallen on top of her.

Just when the Question was about to contact the Watchtower a grappling hook shot out of the foamy sea below. The hook caught on the side of the rudder and Batwoman emerged from the water, suing the grappling hook to pull herself up. The cuffs were off her hands and she was holding Lock-Up by the chain that connected his shoulder pads.

“She’s _got_ to teach me how to do that…” the Question whispered and Gordon laughed softly as Police helicopters and boats approached the ship.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Batwoman left Bolton handcuffed and dangling from Batwoman’s grappling hook while the Question made sure that the boat wouldn’t sink before Lock-Up and his former hostages were picked up by the Police… then the two had returned to the Batjet.

“So where should I drop you?” Batwoman asked the Question as she sank into the pilots seat, sea water dripping off her cape.

“Any rooftop will do, I need to stop by the Watchtower.” The Question replied as the jet took to the skies. “So how did you do it?”

“Do what?” Batwoman asked, turning the plane towards Gotham.

“You were handcuffed. Bolton fell on top of you.”

“Bolton used my handcuffs.” Batwoman explained. “That made getting out of them easier… not that it really matters. I can get out of most cuffs in under ten seconds.”

“So can I, but I’d have a problem doing so while falling into the ocean with an idiot on my back.” The Question replied, staring out at the night sky. “I think you’d work well with a partner.”

“You offering?” Batwoman laughed as she landed the jet on a large rooftop in Gotham and opened the jet’s hatch.

“No.” The Question replied, practically jumping out of the jet. “Besides, I think you’d need a younger partner… someone to keep you from getting too serious.”

 _Why so serious?_ The Joker’s voice echoed in Batwoman’s head, causing her to flinch slightly.

“Whatever you say Q…” Batwoman tried to smile at the faceless hero, although she was reason sure that the Question could tell she was faking. “I’ll send you an email once Bolton’s been sentenced.”

“Thank you.” The Question replied, tipping his fedora to Batwoman before placing it back on his head and raising one hand to the small Justice League comlink that rested in his ear. “Watchtower, one to beam up.”

A flash of light and the Question was gone. Batwoman sighed and closed the Batjet’s hatch, taking off and heading off to the Manor.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Since she had started running around as Batwoman there were certain things which Rachel Wayne had found herself being very grateful for. For example, the gothic architecture of Gotham, which meant there were a lot of places where her grappling hook could latch on to. Another one was Wayne Manor’s almost unlimited supply of hot water.

Sure, she hadn’t spent _much_ time in the ocean… but it had been cold and she had been soaked to the bone. So when she got back to the Manor Rachel stopped in the cave long enough to put away the Batsuit, then headed up to her bedroom and the bathtub in her private bathroom… the one which could have held five people with room to spare.

When she emerged from the warm water and the massive amount of bubbles she was pink and wrinkly… and warm and ready to fall asleep. Rachel had a baggy pair of sweatpants which were almost falling off her hips and was pulling on a large white t-shirt when Alfred knocked on the door.

“Am I forgetting some middle of the night board meeting?” Rachel joked, moving towards the door as Alfred stepped inside… but when she saw the expression on Alfred’s face she froze.

Once Rachel had found a picture of Alfred, one which had been taken right after a judge had declared Rachel legally dead. In the photograph Alfred was standing on a busy street in Gotham, surrounded by the hustle and bustle of an ordinary Gotham day, yet somehow removed from time. He was staring up at the sky, an expression on his face which was the mirror image of Rachel’s face after her parent’s were shot--- as if the entire world had suddenly ceased to exist.

The only other time that Rachel had seen that expression on Alfred’s face was when she’d woken up on her birthday, after being exposed to Scarecrow’s fear toxin and being unconscious for two days. Alfred had wore that expression during the hours leading up to the attack on the Narrows.

“Alfred?” Rachel whispered, feeling as if she was five years old, as if her parents had been buried only a handful of moments ago.

“I found this…” Alfred held up a envelope. “It was sitting on your desk… _in the cave_.”

Rachel stepped forward and took the envelope from Alfred, her hands shaking slightly. “Thank you Alfred… that will be all.”

Alfred nodded and moved away, closing the door silently behind him as Rachel stared at the envelope… it wasn’t a cheap white mass produced envelope. It looked almost handmade and the paper it was sort of yellow white, a similar color to the older books in the Wayne Libaray.

Rachel quickly moved over to her bed, sitting down and leaning against the headboard and the mountain of pillows. Her hands were shaking as she inspected the envelope… on the front her name, her _full_ had been written with black ink in old fashioned calligraphy, the sort that you had to stare at for a couple of seconds before you could read it. Her name was the only thing on the front of the envelope… there wasn’t a stamp or a return address.

The envelope had been sealed with black wax, the sort that you pressed with a signet ring in order to form a seal… without looking Rachel knew what she’d see, but she glanced down, part of her praying that she would be wrong. She found herself fighting back a sob when she looked down at the seal…

A circle with a S inside of it.

The same symbol that decorated the pendant that she wore around her neck.

The symbol of the League of Shadows.  


 

_Author’s Note: Yes, I know I am evil for ending it there. No, the wait between this chapter and the next will not be as long as the previous one. That gap of time was due to finals at my College. I’m a history major, so I end up having to write A LOT and research A LOT, which took A LOT of my time away from this fic._  
[  
 _The Postcard Catwoman sent Batwoman._](http://www.zazzle.com/visit_beautiful_bat_country_barstow_ca_postcard-239781638724613674)

 _WXRX is a television station in Gotham in the movie Batman Returns._

 _The Question is one of my favorite heroes… even though I don’t know much about him. I wish I knew more about him / owned some of his comics. Because of my lack of knowledge about him this fic’s Question is going to be based almost entirely off of his Justice League Unlimited appearances._

 _  
I actually have a Question action figure, from the Justice League Unlimited series. He hangs out on my bookcase with my JLU Batman and Superman.   
_


	17. Te Amo

  
  
_  
**Te Amo = Latin for “I Love You”**   
_   


_The envelope had been sealed with black wax, the sort that you pressed with a signet ring in order to form a seal… without looking Rachel knew what she’d see, but she glanced down, part of her praying that she would be wrong. She found herself fighting back a sob when she looked down at the seal…_

 _A circle with a S inside of it._

 _The same symbol that decorated the pendant that she wore around her neck._

 _The symbol of the League of Shadows._

Slowly, hesitantly, Rachel Wayne reached out, running her finger along the symbol, feeling the wax shift slightly under her fingertip… and then, in a handful of seconds, she tore open the envelope, destroying the League’s seal. Rachel’s hands shook as she pulled out the paper inside and unfolded it.

 _My very dear Rachel,_

 _My travels have recently taken me past the ruins… it was the first time since the incident that I gazed upon them and the sight has impelled me to write a few lines that might fall under your eye._

 _I hope that you understand that I have no misgivings about, or lack of confidence in the cause in which I am engaged. My courage does not halt or falter and I am willing --- perfectly willing --- to lay down all my joys in this life in order to serve my cause._

 _But I can not stop thinking of the pain which my methods have caused you, my beloved. I think of my actions and, more importantly, how those actions have destroyed any chance we had of returning to the lives we lead before… our beliefs, my dear Rachel, are chains, chains which bind us to the lives we now lead._

 _I am sure that you know, as I do, that we shall never be able, or indeed willing, to break those chains._

 _Despite this, my love for you is deathless. The memories of the blissful moments that I spent with you come creeping over me, and I feel most gratified that we were able to enjoy them for son long. I hope you understand how hard it is for me to give up and burn to ashes the hopes I carried for future years, the hopes that we would be together once more… but I acknowledge that events have ensured that the future I envisioned when I gave you’re the pendant can never come to pass._

 _I know that you believe we are even, with no outstanding debts that need be repaid. While I can understand this point of view, you must understand, beloved, that this is simply not true. I owe you a debt that can **never** be repaid._

 _I can not heal the pain that I have caused you. I can not bring back the life that my actions ended-- I wish that my tears and blood could wash away every small spot upon your happiness. But even if I was to lay down my life I know that it would not be enough to repay even a fraction of the debt I owe you._

 _I can not heal the pain I have caused you. I can not bring back the life I ended-- how gladly I would wash out with my tears and blood every little spot upon your happiness! But even if I was to lay down my life, I know that it would not be enough to repay even a fraction of the debt I owe you._

 _I am eternally grateful that you have allowed me to attempt to repay my debts. I understand you desire to move on, to allow the wounds which I have inflicted to heal and be erased by time and distance… my beloved, never forget that, as I mourn for what has ended, I shall, in my own way, be near to you, both in gladdest days and darkest nights. Rachel, you must never forget how much I loved you--- and how much I still love you._

 _No matter what may come to pass, you shall always be my beloved. When my last breath escapes me I shall use it to whisper your name._

 _Your faithful and eternal servant,  
-Henri Ducard_

Rachel’s breath caught in her throat as she sobbed, pressing one hand to her lips as tears started to stream down her face… a part of her wanted to tear the letter into confetti, to scatter the paper to the four winds. But another part wanted nothing more then to hold Henri’s words close and never let them go, to carry the letter as she carried the pendant… which now seemed to press into her chest as if it weighed a thousand pounds. She reached up and grabbed the necklace with one shaking hand, pressing the metal into her palm as she screamed out her grief, allowing memories usually buried deep in her mind to come forward…

 _Rachel stepped out of her boots, placing them on a small bamboo mat to the left of the door to Henri’s chambers, near the space where her cot had once been. She pulled off her heavy coat and draped it over a nearby chair, the snow which clung to the coat’s shoulders already starting to melt, along the snow on her boots and in her hair. After slipping off her damp socks she headed, barefoot, out of the antechamber and into the bedroom itself._

 _Henri’s bedroom was deep inside the Monastery and was bathed in the light and warmth which a large fireplace along it’s north wall provided. Henri was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of said fireplace, only a few inches from the bricks which were frequently hot enough to cook food on. A bowl of water and cup of shaving foam were sitting on the floor next to his knee. Ra’s Al Ghul’s right hand man held a small mirror in one hand and an old fashioned straight razor in the other._

 _Rachel slipped off her arm guards, the ones which she’d recently learned how to break a sword with, and placed them on top of the dresser, which stood next to the door. She removed her sword and it’s sheath, leaning it against the side of the dresser, where Henri’s was already positioned. Without speaking she closed and locked the door behind her and crossed the room, sitting down in front of Henri, who handed her the small mirror._

 _The two sat in silence and Rachel found herself slipping into a quasi-meditative state, lulled by the repetitive sound and motion of her Master shaving… it almost surprised her when Henri folded up his razor and started to clean what little lather remained off his face._

 _Rachel handed the mirror back to Henri and remained sitting as he stood, crossing the room to put away his supplies. As always the silence of the room was not perfect--- even this close to the ‘center’ of the Monastery the wind which buffeted the building could be heard, as could the snow slipping off the roof and the students moved somewhere far off in the sprawling structure… and like all old buildings, the Monastery creaked, as if it was speaking some long forgotten language._

 _“I have something for you.” Henri’s voice cut through the background noise, drawing Rachel’s attention. Her teacher had opened the top drawer of the dresser and, as she watched, he reached inside, pulling out a small black box… he wiped a fine layer of dust off the small box and Rachel found herself thinking of her Father. In her mind she could see Thomas Wayne, holding a black velvet box out for her daughter so that Rachel could see the pearls he’d gotten for her mother._

 _Henri move back towards Rachel, who stood as he stopped in front of her, holding the box out. Her hands shook when she took it from him… it was old and, at first glance, looked like a solid piece of wood. It had been painted black a long time ago, and there were several places where the pain had been scratched or had been worn away by the passing years… places where the original dark wood could be seen. Upon further inspection Rachel realized that it was indeed a box, with a single drawer which slid out, almost like a large matchbox._

 _Inside the small drawer, on a pillow of black silk, there lay a simple chain and pendant. The pendant had a simple design, a circle with a S inside, which made it look like an unfinished taijitu diagram--- a yin yang symbol. Both pendant and chain appeared delicate, but when Rachel touched the metal she found that, while old and beautiful, the necklace had been made to last, to stand up not only to the test of time but to the rigors of an active life… such as the life **she** lead._

 _“It’s beautiful…” Rachel whispered, looking away from the necklace and up at her teacher. Suddenly embarrassed she found herself biting her lip, a blush rising to cover her face. “Help… help me put it on?”_

 _Henri took the box from her and, lifting the necklace out, he carefully set the box aside. With steady hands he fastened the chain around Rachel’s neck and took a step back… as if he was a painter, admiring his work. The pendant hung low, low enough that she could have hid it beneath a woman’s v-neck shirt. Rachel reached up to touch the necklace once more, her hand instinctively curling around the pendant as Henri stepped forward, his left hand rising to push a lock of hair back behind her ear._

 _“I haven’t been able to leave the Monastery recently… but as soon as I have a chance this,” he rested his right hand over Rachel’s clasped fingers. “Will be joined by a ring worthy of gracing your finger.”_

 _Rachel froze, staring at Henri with a dumbstruck expression before she smiled. Rachel couldn’t help but laugh as she leaned forward so that her forehead touched his._

 _“Henri, most people would just **ask** …”_

 _“My dear Miss Wayne… we are not most people.” Henri replied, a smile appearing on his face._

 _And then Henri closed the distance between the two of them, his left hand cupping Rachel’s face as he kissed her._

Henri Ducard and Rachel Wayne had started out as Teacher and Student… before long that hand changed, first to friends, then to lovers… and, for the brief amount of time they had been together, Rachel had been _happy_

But then everything had come crashing down.

She had finished her studies, she had learned all that was possible from Henri and from the League of Shadows. Ra’s Al Ghul had ordered one final test… so Rachel Antonietta Wayne had faced her fear--- and concurred it. She’d tricked Henri and the trial had ended with her sword pressed to the back of his neck… and Rachel had been able to tell how _proud_ he’d been of his lover and student’s success.

Pride that Rachel had felt, pride she’d echoed, when she found herself standing at Henri’s side as he reported her success to Ra’s Al Ghul--- but then the Master of the League of Shadows, the Master of Henri Ducard, had smiled and told Rachel his grand plan…

 _“You are ready to lead these men…” Henri translated. “You are ready to become a member of the League of Shadows. But first you must demonstrate your commitment to justice.”_

The farmer whom she’d seen imprisoned in a wooden cage had been brought before her and when Rachel had turned to Henri for guidance he’d offered her his sword… asking her not only to kill the man who had been forced to kneel before her, but to lead the men and women who stood behind her--- to lead the League of Shadows to Gotham.

Ra’s Al Ghul had ordered her to kill the man, to lead the League of Shadows… to destroy Gotham. And Henri, whom she turned to for guidance, for aid, for understanding… he had nothing but words of praise for Ra’s.

 _“Please Rachel… for your own sake.” Henri whispered, his hand resting heavily on her shoulder, his sword even heavier in her hand. “There is no turning back.”_

Rachel had been so tempted to obey. To take the easy way out… it would have been so _simple_. She could have easily brought the sword down, she could have ended a murder’s life and accepted the happiness that she had found with Henri Ducard, the sense of purpose she’d felt as a member of the League of Shadows.

But then she’d remembered her beloved’s words…

 _Your parents’ death was not your fault… **The training is nothing!** A man can be destroyed, he can be locked up. You must become more then just a man… **The will is everything!** If you devote yourself to an ideal, if they can’t stop you… **Face the truth.** Then you become something else entirely…_

Her ideal was justice. Yes, the man may murdered his neighbor, but both murder and murdered deserved justice. It was not her place to become the man’s judge, jury and executioner…

Rachel had realized long ago that her path was twisted, it was dark and it was dangerous… but at some point she’d taken a wrong step. At some point she’d fallen and landed here, in front of a man who wanted her to kill, to execute…

 _  
**And why do we fall, Rachel? So we can learn to pick ourselves up.**   
_

So Rachel Wayne picked herself up.

 _“What are you doing?”_

 _“What is necessary, beloved._

Alone she fought against the men and women among whom she’d lived for three years… and when she was done fighting the Monastery lay behind her, a soldering ruin. She’d come down the mountain that three years ago she’d almost killed herself climbing up… and this time she’d been carrying Henri’s unconscious body with her.

Rachel had known that her destiny lay in Gotham… she _needed_ to return, so that she could fight, so she could save the city which her father and mother had fought for… and as much as she wanted to, as much as a part of her _needed_ to, she knew that taking Henri with her was impossible.

So Rachel had left him there, at the small village which lay in the base of the mountain, under the care of a peasant family… who had promised to tell Henri that she had left the village, that she was alive… and had promised to give him a scrap of wood, which Rachel had taken from their wood pile and upon which she’d carved her last message to the man who was practically her husband.

 _I love you_

She had removed the pendant Henri had given her, in that small hut at the base of the mountain… and she’d almost put it around her neck and left it with him. But something had stopped her… the same “something” which had made Rachel Wayne put the pendant back on, the same “something” which had stopped Rachel every time she thought about taking off the necklace.

Perhaps that “something” was the knowledge that the words she carved on to the scrap of wood were still true… part of her--- no, that wasn’t true.

The truth was that she _still_ loved Henri.

But her beloved believed in Ra’s Al Ghul’s cause… just as Rachel believed in her own. The sad truth was that Henri Ducard was Ra’s Al Ghul’s solider… and Rachel Wayne was Batwoman’s servant.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The next day was clear, bright and beautiful and Rachel wanted to just curl up in bed and let Alfred feed her more cookies then was in any way reasonable for Batwoman to consume--- but she couldn’t. Wayne Enterprises was in the final stages of negotiating a merger that promised to be extremely profitable for both parties involved. The merger was at the stage where the CEOs of each company would meet, sign some papers and schmooze… which meant that Rachel Wayne had to make an appearance.

So Rachel forced herself to get out of bed and leave Henri’s letter on her bedside table… she covered the bruises and scars she’d gotten as Batwoman with fabric and makeup and made her way through the Manor… to a weeping willow which had stood on the west side of Wayne Manor longer then anyone could remember.

Underneath the sheltering branches of the willow there was an ancient curved stone bench… which Rachel sat down on, leaning against the stone backrest. For several moments she simply sat in silent contemplation, staring off into space.

The willow leaned to the right, it’s trunk ending up being at the short left side of an oval formed by it’s canopy. The stone bench had been placed on the short right end and the path ended in the middle… on the left, next to the tree’s trunk, was the most recent addition. A slab of marble, it’s edges rough, it’s shape natural, had been placed in the ground, so that only the mostly flat top emerged from the dirt and grass.

Rachel Wayne knelt next to the stone and, from a pocket in her jacket, she placed the envelope on top of the stone and put a small rock on top of one corner so that it couldn’t be blown away… she allowed her head to rest on the cold marble for a second as a single tear slipped down her cheek and feel to land on the stone.

When she’d stepped out of the Manor Alfred had been waiting for her… proving once again that he knew Rachel better then she knew herself. He’d handed her a single white rose from the Manor’s gardens and placed a hand on her shoulder… but he hadn’t said anything. Now Rachel lay the white rose next to the envelope.

“I’m sorry.’ Rachel whispered and, leaning down, she kissed the cold stone… then she stood up and left the willow’s overhanging branches, not looking back as she pulled down the mask that was Rachel Wayne--- Gotham’s Most Eligible Bachelorette.

When Rachel returned to the willow, the bench and the marble stone, the letter was gone, as was the small stone that held it in place… but the white rose was still there, laying on top of the marble stone.

And lying next to it was a single black rose.

 

 _  
Author’s Notes: Henri’s letter to Rachel is HEAVILY inspired by / modeled after a letter sent from a Civil War solider to his wife. You can find that letter [here](http://www.sewanee.edu/faculty/Willis/Civil_War/documents/BallouSarah.html).   
_

_[This](http://www.etsy.com/listing/52775770/black-wooden-box-with-single-drawer) is what the box the pendant came in looks like, except without the little handle. It's also the size of a "normal" jewelry box, the sort a jewelry store gives you when you buy a necklace._


	18. Mater Dolorosa

_**Mater Dolorosa = Latin for “Sorrowful Mother”** _

One week passed.

Rachel put the letter away in the same secret spot where she kept the sword Henri had given her, the clothing she had worn when she climbed down the mountain… and the letters Henri had sent in the past.

No new letters arrived. No new flowers appeared on the stone under the willow.

The week which passed was, mercifully, quiet and normal… or at least it was as normal as her life ever got. Rachel Wayne’s face graced the Society page of several newspapers, magazines and talk shows after the Billionaire attended an art gallery opening with two dates--- a male model and a male fashion designer. (She was really their beard.) Meanwhile Batwoman’s investigations (both in costume and as “Matches” Malone) allowed Commissioner Gordon and the Gotham Police to make several important arrests.

One week after Batwoman fought Lock-Up with the Question, one week after Rachel Wayne received Henri Ducard’s letter, the Justice League called upon the Dark Knight.

Blockbuster, Cheetah, Copperhead and KGBeast had, for some unknown reason, decided to team up and rob a bank vault together. The four criminals had been discovered _very_ quickly and, after one or two guards got thrown around, the Justice Leauge had been called. The League had sent the Flash, Superman, Wonderman and Batwoman to deal with the robbery.

The inclusion of the Dark Knight had probably been Clark’s idea.

Gordon had, on behalf of the Gotham Police, released a statement confirming that the Question had assisted Batwoman with Lock-Up. Both the Question and Batwoman had remained silent about their little team up, but that hadn’t stopped the gossipmongers in the Justice League. They’d talked of nothing but Batwoman for the past week.

Clark had super-hearing and spent a lot of time on the Watchtower, so he’d probably had bats on the brain—although the inclusion of Batwoman was logical. The Dark Knight had been a member of the Justice League (albeit technically an “unofficial” one) for a month, but she’d only been up on the Watchtower twice. Several members of the Justice League had called her for help, but that had been hacking and/or detective help. Other than her team ups with the Question Batwoman had remained apart from the League… and she’d only been on one mission.

The Dark Knight had no problem working with the Justice League, now that they had (mostly) given up on trying to figure out who she was underneath the cowl. So when her communicator went off she’d answered the League’s call… and found herself transported to a bank vault in Central City.

Batwoman had spared with three of the four villains before. Cheetah was the only one who hadn’t spent time in Gotham in the past. As for the three heroes she had been paired with…

Batwoman spent her nights leaping off of buildings and had gone toe to toe with a small army of ninjas on several occasions. The last time (the _first_ time) that Batwoman had found herself fighting alongside the League she’d only really worked with the Green Lantern, and even that had been for a very short time. When she’d fought Luthor and the Joker with superman the presence of kryptonite and the Clown Prince of Crime had helped to level the playing field.

But now Batwoman was fighting alongside three powered heroes: Superman, the Flash and Wonderman. The Man of Steel, the World’s Fastest Man (even though _no one_ actually knew how the Superman vs. Flash race had ended) and a man who could deflect bullets with his _bracelets_.

So not only was Batwoman the only non-powered hero in the grup, but she was also the only woman… which meant that the three men were, for various reasons, trying to look out for her, while trying to make it seem like they _weren’t_ looking out for her. At least with Wonderman she could be reasonably sure that her sex wasn’t a reason for the protection, after all David had been raised by an entire island full of strong women… no Wonderman was probably just looking out for Batwoman because the Dark Knight didn’t have any powers.

When the four arrived on the scene each member had focused on one villain… the Flash was running circles around Copperhead, Superman was facing off with Blockbuster, Wonderman was tossing Cheetah into walls and the Dark Knight was doing her best to doge KGBeast’s bullets, so that she could get close enough to actually start fighting the masked man.

Batwoman had been dodging the Russian’s punches, moving over and under his massive arms… when she moved a second too slow. The assassin wrapped a massive fist around Batwoman’s throat and used that fist to lift Batwoman off her feet. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed both Superman and the Flash attempting to get away from their “dance partners” and help her.

But before the superheroes could do anything a batarang that Batwoman had thrown earlier smashed into KGBeast’s skull, knocking out one of the man’s teeth and sending him tumbling to the ground.

After the Dark Knight took care of KGBeast it didn’t take long for the other three members of the Justice League to deal with the remaining criminals. Soon all four were out for the count and Wonderman had looped his golden lasso around the group.

“I guess that’s a wrap!” Flash laughed, a huge smile on his face. This drew a good natured groan from Superman, a smile from Wonderman and an eye roll from Batwoman. The Scarlett Speedster giggled like a schoolgirl as Batwoman turned to face the two security guards, who had decided to come out of hiding and thank the heroes.

A shiver raced down Batwoman’s spine. She swore that her pendant heated up for a split second right before a strange purple mist came rolling through the walls of the bank vault. The strange mist quickly surrounded the guards, who screamed before they vanished… as if they had never been there in the first place. Before the League members could call out or tell J’onn to teleport them to safety, the purple mist surrounded the group of heroes.

It was as if she’d blinked. One second Batwoman was in a bank vault, surrounded by purple mist, the next she was standing on some sort of floating island… and the sky was the wrong color.

The “island” was slightly larger than the bank vault and, when she turned the Dark Knight could see that the other three members of the Justice League, as well as the four villains, who were all standing on the island with her. The sky was white, with blotch patches of red and black… it looked like an abstract painting. In the sky around the island she was on Batwoman could see several other islands of varying sizes… and all those islands had people standing on them.

“It was judgment day!” Copperhead cried out suddenly, drawing the attention of both heroes and villains. “And we got sent to the bad place!”

“Then why are _they_ here?” Cheetah asked, gesturing towards the four heroes as Wonderman untied the four, seeing no point in keeping the terrified criminals tied up.

“We’re probably just in another dimension.” The Flash replied, kicking a stone on the ground as he looked around, obviously trying to keep up a brave face despite probably being as freaked out as Copperhead was.

Batwoman allowed her cape to close around her as she scanned the nearby islands… she could see adults of all shapes and sizes, from all over the world and from all levels of society--- but she could also see that something was missing.

“I don’t see any children.” Batwoman informed the other heroes.

“That is because a child is responsible.”

A tall woman, wearing a long red dress with golden armor on top, was floating in the air above the island. As the League watched she moved closer and they could see a silver light, surrounding her, most likely a byproduct of the magic she was using to fly towards the island. The woman had long black hair and her face was covered by a golden mask.

“Morgine Le Faye.” Batwoman nodded her head slightly towards the Sorceress in greeting. If Le Faye was here then magic was involved and the Justice League was at a disadvantage… so being polite to the Sorceress was the best option by far.

“I mean you no harm Dark Knight.” Morgaine replied, landing gracefully in front of Batwoman and the other Justice League members. Morgaine had her back to the four villains, who had backed as far away from Le Faye as they could, given the size of the island.

“A child?” Flash whispered.

“My son, Mordred, has wrought this treachery. He has banished all adults to this shadow realm.” Morgaine explained, somehow managing to convey her sadness through what should have been an expressionless golden mask. “Even me, his own mother… and after I spent millennia feeding him, bathing him--- preparing him to be king!”

Part of Batwoman wanted to lash out at Morgaine… although this was the first time she’d actually met Morgaine Le Faye, Batwoman was friends with Medea Blood and the occultist who (occasionally) called Gotham home had told Batwoman enough stories about the two Le Fayes that the Dark Knight had a halthy measure of respect for Morgaine’s power and Mordred’s childish rage and sense of entitlement.

“But you’re a sorceress… can’t you just undo his spell?” Wonderman asked.

“No.” Morgaine replied, shaking her head. “Mordred has the Amulet of First Magic--- he’s two powerful.” She paused for a moment, looking at the four heroes. “But if we all work together…”

“You want us to defeat your own son?” Batwoman asked, struggling to keep her voice calm.

“So don’t trust me!” Morgaine hissed. “Let him rule the world and all your children.” The Sorceress gestured at the floating islands around them. “Here we will stay… forever.”

“But what can we do?” Superman asked. “We’re stuck here, aren’t we?”

“Not exactly.” Morgraine replied. “Mordred’s spell only banishes _adults_.”

“I don’t like where this is going…” The Flash whispered, echoing Batwoman’s thoughts.

“It’s the only way.” Morgaine replied.

“We have to do it.” Superman sighed, looking over at the other heroes to see if they objected… but no one spoke. They all knew Morgraine was right, they didn’t really have a choice.

“Excellent.” Morgraine cleared her throat and started to chant. “ _Malugo sataroth, kaboth tanado… kathutah!_ ”

As Morgaine Le Faye chanted energy started to gather in her gloved hands. As she raised her hands the energy started to spread out to surround her entire body. When she shouted the last word the energy shot outwards--- energy which looked like two snakes, which reached out and wrapped themselves around the four members of the Justice League, weaving together until the four heroes were surrounded by a bubble of green energy.

There was a sudden white light and as Batwoman closed her eyes against the flash Rachel Wayne could feel her body start to change….

She had to blink several times before her vision returned. Something was different, she could feel that before she knew what exactly that something was…. When her vision finally returned to normal Batwoman looked down at her hands. She couldn’t contain her squeak of surprise at how _small_ they were.

Batwoman had understood Morgaine Le Faye’s plan. She had understood the limits of Mordred’s spell, understood what had to be done to get the four heroes into the world of children that Mordred had created… but she hadn’t really _thought_ about it.

As Batwoman Rachel Wayne Relied on three things: her mind, her technology and her _very human_ body.

Her mind… well it didn’t _seem_ any different. Her technology all appeared to be in it’s proper place on her belt. But her body… her body was now the body of a child. The Dark Knight of Gotham City had been turned into a little girl… only eight or nine years old.

Sure, the other three members of the Justice League had also been turned into little kids of a similar age, but Morgraine was smart enough to have ensured that they kept their powers. Superman might be an eight year old body, but he was still (probably) “more powerful than a locomotive”. But Batwoman was a normal human woman, now reduced to a normal little girl with the strength, speed and power of a little girl.

“This better be temporary.” Batwoman whispered, struggling to ignore how her young body took the “bite” out of her voice and turned it into a whimper.

“You sound weird.” The Flash remarked, only to squeak as he heard his own voice. “Woah, so do I!”

“I kinda like this.” Wonderman smirked, drawing attention to the fact that she was now he tallest of the group, which made Superman (the former tallest) laugh.

Batwoman sighed and looked around… it appeared that Mordred had manipulated wherever they were to resemble a demonic version of a medieval town, complete with a guillotine in the main square. In the distance, down a long road that the group was standing on, there was an equally twisted looking castle.

“I bet the little punk is in there.” The Dark Knight said, gesturing towards the castle. “Probably reminds him of home.”

“Then that’s where we’ll go.” Wonderman replied, taking to the skies with Superman following close behind him. The Flash and Batwoman started to run beneath them… or at least Batwoman started to run.

The Dark Knight had only gone one or two steps when she found herself being swept up into Superman’s arms, like some sort of damsel in distress. She would have protested, but once she was in Superman’s arms the group moved at a much faster speed… it also didn’t help that, for some reason, she was blushing.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Mordred Le Faye was sitting in the middle of a room filled with children. He sat upon a throne of gold and purple which was at least twice as tall as he was. A large crown was perched upon his head and a pendant, which could only be the Amulet of First Magic, was around his neck. The Amulet of First Magic was simple in design, consisting of a large purple stone set in a gold disk and connected to a thin gold chain.

All around the room there were children of various ages… one by one the children approached Mordred and, with either confusion or terror clear in their voices, asked for something. A small boy asked for toys and Mordred created several action figures. An older girl, with a baby in her arms stepped forward and asked for help… her baby sister was crying, the girl thought she was hungry. Mordred seemed to be annoyed by the request, but he snapped his fingers and summoned a cow for the girl and her little sister.

“Next!” Mordred called out as he slouched down in his throne, clearly bored with the tedious business of carrying for his subjects.

The members of the Justice League chose that moment to step forward, out of the room’s shadows and into the light. For a second Mordred looked concerned… and then he started to laugh so hard that he almost fell out of his chair.

“Oh look, it’s the Justice babies!” Mordred howled, clutching at his sides.

“What are you laughing at _precious_?” Batwoman growled, her cape closing around her. The Dark Knight took some pride in the fact that, despite her reduced age, most of the nearby children took a step or two back.

“You…” Mordred growled, a sneer appearing on his face as he stood up. “My mother sent you, didn’t she?” He laughed. “She shouldn’t have sent a child to do a man’s job.”

Mordred clenched his fist and purple energy flowed out form the Amulet, through his fist and towards the action figures he had summoned for one of his subjects. The toys suddenly grew, quickly becoming larger than the Justice League.

As children ran screaming in fear the “toys” lunged at the superheroes. A red and grey one swung a mace at Superman, which sent the Last Son of Krypton flying to the side… it seemed that although Superman still possessed all his powers, his smaller body didn’t pack the same punch as his normal form.

Batwoman dogged a green and black toy’s sword and noticed that the other two heroes (Flash and Wonderman) were in a similar state as Superman--- their powers worked but their younger bodies couldn’t deliver the blows they usually did… Wonderman was struggling to push back one of the toy’s spears using his bracelets, but the toy was too powerful and the spear was slipping closer and closer to the Amazon Prince.

Flash chose that moment to jump up on to the toy’s shoulders and start punching at the toy’s head. This damaged and distracted the toy enough that Wonderman could shove the spear away and start attacking. Between the two of them the magically enlarged toy was soon reduced to a rubble.

“Thanks!” Wonderman shouted to the Flash with a smile as the two heroes moved off to deal with the remaining toys. Meanwhile Batwoman had made her way across the room and was getting close to Mordred. Unfortunately the “King” spotted the Dark Knight and summoned one of the toy soldiers to defend him. The toy (purple and silver) reached out to swipe at Batwoman with it’s claws. Lucky for the Dark Knight it seemed that her training (both with the League of Shadows and elsewhere) had transferred from her adult body to her present childish one. Instead of getting mauled by the toy’s claws Batwoman managed to dodge by jumping up and landing on the toy’s arm. Making a split second decision Rachel Wayne used both her and the toy’s momentum to go up and over.

Her small size actually helped her to move fast enough to run up the toy’s arm and on to it’s shoulder, from there she jumped, firing her grappling hook, which imbedded itself in Mordred’s throne. Le Faye’s son laughed, thinking that Batwoman had intended to hit him… only to scream as the Dark Knight yanked on the grappling hook, causing the throne to topple over and pin Mordred beneath it.

But Batwoman’s victory was shortlived. Before she could try and swipe the Amulet of First Magic Mordred recovered, using his magic to push the throne off him and shove Batwoman away. The toy which the Dark Knight had jumped over turned and swiped at her again, while Mordred released a powerful blast of magic at Batwoman… which she had no way of dodging. She couldn’t move fast enough, not with the toy swiping at her… but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to try.

Batwoman started to run… only to blink and find herself halfway across the room, in Superman’s arms. The Man of Steel had, apparently, zoomed in and picked Batwoman up before speeding the two of them to safety. Because of Clark’s speed Mordred’s magic missed Batwoman and destroyed the toy which had been trying to claw at her.

“Are you okay?” Superman asked as he gently set Batwoman down at his side.

“I’m fine.” Batwoman whispered, taking a few steps away from Superman. “…Thank you.”

Flash and Wonderman had used the distraction of Superman rescuing Batwoman from Mordred’s magic to charge at the boy King… but before they got within fighting distance of Mordred Le Faye he growled and flung another bolt of magic, this one directed towards the ground in front of Flash and Wonderman, which vanished beneath them. The two didn’t have time to react, so they went tumbling into the darkness below.

“Playtime’s over... time to put the toys away.” Mordred snarled as Superman and Batwoman raced forward to help the other two heroes, only to have another bolt of magic slam into them, which pulled them forward and dropped the two into the hole that Flash and Wonderman had fallen into.

Superman tried to fly up and out but Mordred shot off a blast of energy at the Man of Steel, which sent him crashing to the ground. When Superman hit the ground Mordred sealed up the hole, leaving the four members of the Justice League in a dungeon, complete with skeletons and torches on the walls.

“Well that went well.” Batwoman sighed as she stood up and looked around the dungeon.

“It sure did.” Flash replied. He didn’t stand up, although he did shit so that his arms were wrapped around his knees. “We couldn’t even get _near_ him!”

“He’s just too powerful…” Wonderman sighed, moving to sit next to the Flash and leaning against the Scarlett Speedster.

“As long as Mordred has the Amulet of First Magic we can’t win.” Superman added as he stood up and looked over at Batwoman.

“Yes, but we have an advantage.” Batwoman replied, turning to face the other three heroes. “Even with the Amulet Mordred’s just a spoiled brat.”

“… so how does that help us?” Flash asked, shifting so he was sitting Indian style.

“He’s stupid.” Batwoman replied, moving towards one of the dungeon walls. “He thinks us of as toys, so he shoves us into a dungeon and closes the hole…”

“Well I can see why you’re the ‘World’s Greatest Detective’.” Flash scoffed, which earned him a glare from Batwoman and Superman.

“As I was saying, he closes the hole with magic, but these walls---” Batwoman took out one of her batarangs and dragged it against the wall, created a deep scratch. “Are _stone_.”

“What?” Superman blinked, before speeding over to Batwoman and punching the wall, which resulted in a (satisfyingly large) hole.

“I told you, Mordred’s a spoiled brat. He expects everyone to do what he wants them to.” Batwoman replied, stepping away from the wall so that Superman and Wonderman could break them out of the dungeon.

“How did you know the walls would be stone?” Flash asked as he moved to stand next to Batwoman.

“I’ve had some experience with spoiled brats.” Batwoman shrugged. “I figured a magical spoiled brat couldn’t be too different.”

With one final punch (from Superman) the wall crumbled and the members of the Justice League were able to escape into the town Mordred had created.

“So we can’t just run at Mordred again…” Wonderman mused as the group moved towards the town.

“Before we face Mordred we should get them out of the way.” Batwoman replied, gesturing towards the “town square” where a crowd of children were, some sitting and crying quietly, some causing a ruckus or bullying the other kids. “Otherwise Mordred will just use them as shields.”

“But… we’re not exactly our usual selves.” Flash remarked, rubbing the back of his head nervously. “I’m not sure they’ll listen to us, and no offense Bats, but they’ll probably run screaming from you.”

Batwoman ignored the Flash’s comment, choosing instead to move towards the town square. The Flash was right--- while most of the kids ignored the League members, a few were visibly frightened of Batwoman, despite her reduced size.

“Let me try something…” Wonderman whispered to the other heroes before stepping forward and loudly clearing his throat. “ **THAT’S ENOUGH!** ”

Instantly the children in the town square fell silent and stared at Wonderman… although one little girl was quite clearly not impressed. “You can’t tell us what to do!” The little girl shouted at David. “You’re not my dad!”

“No, I’m not.” Wonderman sighed, resting his hands on his hips. “But I promise you, we will find all your parents.”

Batwoman stepped forward to stand by Wonderman’s side, her cape closing around her as she did her best to look as intimidating as possibly. She glared at the crowd of children and mock whispered: “And I’m gonna tell!”

The children who weren’t convinced by Wonderman’s promises were persuaded by Batwoman’s threat… those holding wooden swords or other improvised toys/weapons quickly dropped them, and the little girl who had spoken before visibly gulped and took a step back.

“What should we do?” A tall boy in a blue baseball cap asked.

“Go outside and wait for your parents.” Wonderman said, gesturing to the edge of the town. The children scrambled to obey as David turned to face the Dark Knight. “Thank you.”

Batwoman shrugged and looked back at Flash and Superman. “Clark, is Mordred still in the castle?”

Superman turned so that he was looking at the castle, which he quickly scanned with his x-ray vision. “He’s back in the throne room…” Superman actually started giggling. “He’s gone to sleep!”

“Then let’s try things my way.” Batwoman suggested, kneeling on the ground and drawing a quick map of the throne room in the sand. “We need to get the Amulet away from him… so we split up, get on each side and one of us will get the Amulet off him.”

“Well your probably the best at sneaking around.” Superman replied.

“So Bats steals the Amulet from him and the we’ll do our thing.” Flash added.

“Well… I guess I’ll go with Batwoman.” Wonderman suggested.

“I’m fine to go with the Flash.” Superman replied.

“Is that okay with you Batwoman?” Wonderman asked as Batwoman stood up.

“I’d rather go with Clark.”

The words were out of her mouth before Batwoman could stop herself… she decided to blame Morgaine’s magic. Clearly it was starting to affect her mind.

“Of course. So I’ll team go with Flash and you’ll go with Superman.” Wonderman smiled, looking quite pleased with himself.

“What’s with you guys?” Superman whispered to Flash as they started moving towards the Castle.

“Man, for someone with like… fifty different kinds of vision you sure are blind!” Flash sighed, rolling his eyes at the Man of Steel.

The four heroes sneaked into the castle and quietly entered the throne room, where they split up into two groups. Wonderman and the Flash went to the right, getting as close to Mordred as they could and hiding behind a pillar. Batwoman, with Superman floating behind her went to the left, coming up behind Mordred, who had fall asleep on his throne.

The Amulet of First Magic was around Mordred’s neck, rising and fall as he breathed (and snored). Although Rachel Wayne had stolen a few times on her trip around the world, she’d never been too good at it… and she’d never had to steal anything that anyone was wearing before.

Motioning for Superman to stay still, Batwoman stepped out of the protection of the shadows and moved towards the throne. Her vision narrowed until all she could see was the Amulet and Mordred as her breathing slowed down… she became hyperware of every little sound, from the grit shifting underneath her boots to the sound her cape made when it shifted.

 _He’s a spoiled rich kid. He won’t be expecting us to use stealth. He’s just a spoiled rich kid._ She mentally chanted as she took the last step towards the throne… and noticed that Mordred was wearing headphones. _…and it helps that’s he’s listening to music._

The Amulet was on a chain, one long enough that Batwoman could probably slip it over Mordred’s head… but the Amulet was heavy enough that Morded would (probably) notice the missing weight. Batwoman reached out and, forcing her hands not to tremble, picked up the chain the Amulet was on. Hopefully it was just a chain and her plan would work.

Batwoman shifted slightly so that she was facing Superman and held the chain with two hands so that a small length of chain was between her two hands. She looked over at Clark and, in the softest whisper she could managed, said two words: “Laser beam?”

Superman blinked, but obeyed. He narrowed his eyes and a tiny line of red light shot out, cutting the chain… and then Mordred shifted slightly in his sleep. Batwoman could tell that the boy King was waking up… so she needed to get the Amulet as far away from him as she could.

The Dark Knight grabbed the Amulet and ran, heading towards Wonderman and the Flash… behind her Mordred woke up and, finding that the Amulet was gone, screamed in rage. He reached out to either grab Batwoman or shoot some sort of magic at her, but was stopped by Superman slamming into him.

Batwoman continued to put distance between herself and Mordred as Flash raced forward to help Superman hold Mordred down. “He’s just a little kid!” Superman shouted.

And then Mordred growled and with a flash of magic, started to grow. In no time at all he was a giant and easily threw Superman and the Flash way from him.

“I hate magic!” Flash screamed as he and Superman sailed through the air and smashed into one of the pillars.

After throwing Flash and Superman away Mordred reached out and easily grabbed Batwoman with one hand. Without thinking the Dark Knight threw the Amulet of First Magic like it was one of her batarangs, passing it off to Wonderman. When Mordred reached out with his magic and picked up the Amazon Prince, David threw the Amulet up into the air.

“Superman!” He screamed.

Before Mordred could reach out and grab the Amulet Superman blasted it with the full force of his laser vision… for a second it seemed like nothing had happen, like the Amulet was immune to Superman’s laser vision--- but then the Amulet shattered into a million pieces.

Mordred screamed and returned to his normal size… but the world didn’t go back to normal and the Justice League were still children.

“I’ve absorbed too much of the Amulet’s power.” Mordred explained, an evil grin on his face as he gestured with his hand, using his magic to tie the four heroes up with ropes he created... and then flipping them over so they were suspended in mid air, upside down. “You may have destroyed the Amulet, but I’m still more powerful then you.”

“Sure you are.” Batwoman shouted, smirking at Mordred as she ignored the feeling of blood rushing to her head. “You say you’ve got all this power… but you’re still just a little boy!”

“Shut up!” Mordred growled at the Dark Knight.

“You’re right Bats, he’s just a kid.” Wonderman added. “I’m not impressed.”

“You don’t know what it’s like!” Mordred screamed, directing most of his fury at Batwoman. “You’ve never been stuck as a kid for ages!”

“You could have grown up any time you wanted!” Batwoman spat back. “You’ve _obviously_ got enough power!”

“He’s probably just too _chicken_ to grow up.” Superman added.

“Yep, a big chicken. That’s what he is!” Flash laughed.

“Face it _precious_ …you’re just a mamma’s boy!” Batwoman smirked.

“I’ll show you!” Mordred screamed, clenching his fists. “I’ll show you all!”

With another scream of rage white light surrounded Mordred and, as lighting lit up the sky Mordred began to change. Slowly at first, but then faster and faster, Mordred, the eternally young son of Morgine Le Faye grew up, becoming a young adult, perhaps twenty years old.

“I’m older then you now.” Mordred cackled making a fist with one hand.

“You sure are.” Batwoman replied.

Mordred moved, as if he was about to punch Batwoman… when he noticed what the four heroes had already notice--- he was _see through_. The now adult Mordred Le Faye was vanishing.

“What’s happening?” Mordred cried out, sounding like a small child crying out for his parents after a nightmare. “What—” Before Mordred could finish his sentence there was another flash of white light and the youth had vanished… as had the ropes and the magic which had held the Justice League upside down.

The four picked themselves up off the floor and stood up, taking a second or two to recover from being upside down.

“What just happened?” Flash asked as he looked over at the other three.

“I’m guessing that Mordred forgot about his original spell.” Batwoman replied.

“So he was sent to the other dimension with all the other adults… but why didn’t he just magic himself back?” Superman asked.

“Mordred used all his power to break my spell.”

Morgaine Le Faye was standing in front of the group. The golden mask she wore somehow projecting a deep sadness as the world slowly started going back to normal, the nightmare castle and town of Mordred’s design turning into an amusement park as adults started to appear.

“A deal is a deal… _Bothka, adoto. Lugalo sataroth_!” Morgaine chanted and, with a flash of light, the four members of the Justice League were returned to their normal ages and sizes.

“What happened to your son?” Batwoman asked Morgaine.

The Sorceress stared at Batwoman for a second before she spoke. “He broke my spell. Now, instead of eternal youth, all he has is eternal life.”

“I’m sorry.” Batwoman whispered.

Morgaine Le Faye actually seemed surprised by Batwoman’s response for a second, but she quickly recovered. “Thank you Dark Knight.”

Morgaine Le Faye inclined her head to Batwoman and the other heroes and vanished, leaving the heroes to watch as parents were reunited with their children. Wonderman smiled as a little boy was swept up into his mother’s arms.

“Circumstances aside… it was kinda nice to be a kid again.” Wonderman smiled, looking over at Flash and Superman, who nodded in agreement.

Batwoman turned her back on the scene and walked away from the three heroes. “I haven’t been a kid since---” She cut herself off, trying not to see a mother and father holding their son, who couldn’t be more than a year old. “Never mind.”

“Batwoman?” Superman stepped forward, reaching out to place a hand on the Dark Knight’s shoulder.

“John,” Batwoman spoke into her comlink. “Get me back to Gotham.”

“ _Of course Batwoman._ ” The Martin Manhunter replied over the Justice League comlink.

_Author’s Note: This chapter is based off the Justice League Unlimited episode “Kid Stuff’ which is one of my favorite episodes in the series._

_I’m going back to College on the 3rd, so the next chapter might be delayed due to cross country airplane trips (California to Massachusetts), moving into my dorm, being Head Librarian for my Anime Club and President of my RPG club… oh and being a Senior in College who has a job on campus._

_Also, a lovely person by the name of Misaki-Kaito made fanart for this story. Her amazing picture of Batwoman and Clark can be seen[here](http://misaki-kaito.deviantart.com/art/Batman-Err-woman-254420302)._


	19. Alter Ego

_**Alter Ego = Latin for “Other I / Other Self”** _

The Ales of Justice was located two blocks due east of Crime Alley, about half a block west of the waterfront. It was a hole in the wall bar, open roughly 24/7 and every holiday except (for some reason) Columbus Day. Walk into the Ales at any time of day (or night) and you’d find several men either leaning low over their drinks or playing pool in a permanent fog of smoke—Gotham had passed an indoor smoking ban three years ago, but no one enforced said ban at the Ales.

It was the first Saturday in October, the sun had set a little less than an hour ago and the Ales of Justice was starting to fill up as men either got off work or decided to have a drink before they started work. The regulars claimed their customary seats and/or pool tables and someone had fed a few quarters into the jukebox, which had started to play “Clyde” by Waylon Jennings. The bar’s television was on, with the volume turned down and subtitles scrolling on the bottom… the Gotham Wildcats were losing 3 to 5 to the Metropolis Sharks.

There were very few women in the Ales of Justice. There were two waitresses, tough women who, had they been slightly younger, would have probably made better money working as prostitutes. Here and there, scattered through the bar, were a few pretty young things (or women trying to look like a “pretty young thing”) clinging to the arm of their man. The Ales of Justice wasn’t the Iceberg Lounge, it wasn’t a place where the rich and criminally rich rubbed elbows, it wasn’t a place for a girl to go after she finished working uptown. The Ales was a simple place for working men to relax and crooks to drink as they traded info over which gang was looking for some extra muscle.

The bar’s sign (pink neon depicting Lady Justice holding scales weighing bottles) hissed softly in the background. The J in “justice” was in danger of going out, but it had been sputtering for about a week, so no one bothered to tell Ralph Keese, the bartender and owner of the Ales.

The bar’s door swung open, letting in a quick blast of the cold October night air. One or two heads turned, either looking for a friend or looking out for an enemy, but most of the bar stayed focused on their drinks or their pool games. Ralph had been one of the few to turn and look at the newcomer and, unlike the others, he recognized the bar’s newest arrival. Ralph smiled, a scar on his lip elongating the smile on one side which revealed a missing tooth and two teeth which really should have been missing. (One was black. The other was green.)

“Matches!” Ralph called out, gesturing to an empty seat at the bar. “What brings you to the Ales?”

“Relationship problems Ralph.” Matches sighed, pulling off a long black trench coat and tossing it on to the coat rack. Several men wolf whistled at the outfit underneath--- tall black boots, skinny jeans that looked like they’d been painted on and a red top which looked like it was about two seconds away from slipping down.

“Matches”, s a young woman with black hair and dark brown eyes, moved to the stool Ralph had indicated and sat down, crossing one leg over the other as the men on either side moved back to give her more room. She removed a battered pack of Moor Methanol Cigarettes from the black pocket of her jeans and placed one between her dark red lips, leaving a tiny smudge of lipstick on the cigarette. She ignored several men who offered her a light and pulled a book of matches out.

“Relationship problems? Need us to hurt someone for ya?” Ralph asked, placing a rum and coke (light on the rum, heavy on the ice and coke) in front of the woman.

“Oh Ralph… you’re a gentleman but it’s not _that_ kind of problem.” Matches laughed, using one hand to light a match from the book and moving her drink closer with her free hand. “My boyfriend’s being investigated. Fraud or embezzlement or something.” She waved her hand dismissively, which also served to blow out the match.

“This the boyfriend who took you to Metropolis?” Ralph asked, reaching for his rag and a glass to clean.

“Yeah, the Luthor-wanna-be. Came to Gotham to try and cozy up with Wayne.” Matches sighed, resting her head in one hand. “I overheard him yelling at his lawyer, so I grabbed my things, a few loose bills and checked into a motel.”

Charlotte “Matches” Malone was well known among the criminal element and the lower class in Gotham City. She was, basically, a courtesan, making her living by being the “girlfriend” of various rich men, whom she called her “boyfriends”. Almost every crook in Gotham knew Matches, or at least they’d heard of her. Several men dreamed that, at some point in the future, they’d be able to afford Matches.

When her boyfriends were too busy to entertain her Matches would go to bars like the Ales of Justice and “practice” (aka flirt) with the crowd. When she found herself between boyfriends Matches searched for a new man in Gotham’s upper class hangouts, but she still visited the Ales (and other bars), claiming that she felt more comfortable with the riff-raff.

Of course, this was all a lie. Charlotte “Matches” Malone didn’t have any “boyfriends” and she certainly didn’t need to find one in order to make ends meet. Matches Malone didn’t actually exist. Matches was just the name Batwoman went by when she needed to gather information. If she couldn’t get info as Batwoman or as Rachel Wayne then she pulled on something slutty and went out as Matches.

“So how much did ya get away with?” One of the regulars asked as Matches took a sip of her drink.

“Uh… couple hundred cash, one or two nice rings.” She shrugged. “Managed to put some in the bank--- but that’s in case I can’t convince someone to marry me.”

A tall, muscled man with way too many tattoos, who wasn’t one of the regulars, approached Matches, who narrowed her eyes at the obviously drunk man. He ran a hand through her hair, pushing it back from his eyes and smiled at Matches. “You looking for a new boyfriend?” He asked, not even trying to pretend that he wasn’t staring at her cleavage.

“Honey, you couldn’t afford me.” Matches smirked as one of the regulars shoved the drunk man away. “Besides, I don’t do one night stands. Those girls are about three blocks north.”

“So you got a possible man yet?” A regular asked as Matches shook the ash from her cigarette.

“I haven’t started making the rounds.” Matches replied. “I’m thinking about going to the Iceberg Lounge… unless it’s gone downhill since I’ve been gone.”

“Nah, Penguin’s managed to dodge everything Gordon and the Bat throw at him.” Ralph shrugged, accepting the crumpled bills Matches pulled out of her pocket. “Gotham’s rich like to go there and ‘live dangerously’.”

“‘Live dangerously?’ Bastards should come here.” Matches laughed, pushing her drink away and straightening up. “Sorry to leave so soon boys, but I’ve got to find someone to keep me in the style to which I’m accustomed.”

“You come back, even if you don’t have the money.” Ralph said as he removed Matches’ drink. “We’ll work something out, get you some drinking money at least.”

“Thanks Ralph.” Matches winked at the bartender before allowing one of the regulars to help her into her coat. “See you around boys.” She smiled, blowing a kiss to the room before stepping back out into the Gotham night.

“I tell you Ralph… one day I’ll get her.” One of the regulars, sitting down at the end of the bar, remarked as he leaned heavily on the wood of the bar and reached for a nearby bottle. “May not be rich, but I’ll get her.”

“I think you’ve had enough.” Ralph remarked, moving the bottle out of the drunk’s grasp.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Everyone in Gotham knew that most of the business conducted at the Iceberg Lounge wasn’t _exactly_ legal… the problem was that no one could connect Oswald Cobblepot, aka the Penguin, to those shady dealings. Penguin paid good money to ensure that, in the eyes of the law, he was considered an upstanding citizen.

The Iceberg Lounge had started off as an empty warehouse that Cobblepot had purchased for next to nothing after he was released from Arkham Asylum. Within three weeks of his parole the warehouse had been transformed into a glamorous restaurant and nightclub, complete with a decorative indoor pool where seals swam and there was a large fake iceberg that served as the Lounge’s stage. The Iceberg Lounge also had several backrooms, which served as a sort of mini-Iceberg, where Gotham’s crooks (big and small) could gather.

Matches Malone was a regular guest at these gatherings, gatherings which the Police left alone, both because Penguin’s bribes made it next to impossible to get warrants and it was an easy way to get undercover officers placed in the criminal underworld. Penguin usually steered clear of those gatherings, choosing instead to stay in the front room with the rich and famous. He only went into the back rooms if he had a job which needed doing or a guest who couldn’t show his or her face in the front room.

Matches didn’t go straight from the Ales of Justice to the Iceberg Lounge… Penguin’s club didn’t have a dress code for the front room, but Cobblepot did appreciate a more “refined” manner of dress and Rachel had found the humoring Gotham’s criminals and criminally insane was sometimes a very good choice of action, at least when she wasn’t running around as Batwoman.

So Matches had changed into a strapless black dress with a slit in the side that went up to her hip. The slit showed off her black thigh-high fishnet stockings and black high heels. She had the same black trench coat that she’d wore to the Ales over the outfit and was carrying a small black clutch purse--- although she had that she wouldn’t need the bills in said purse, since Penguin would likely want to be a “gentleman” and pay for everything… Matches wasn’t surprised when the hostess lead past the main room, down a hallway and into one of the private back rooms of the Lounge.

The private rooms of the Iceberg Lounge weren’t decorated like the front room. There weren’t mini fake icebergs or paintings of arctic landscapes. Instead the windowless rooms were decorated in dark brown wood and muted dark reds, with a small stage in one corner. The walls were lined with boots and the floor covered in various sizes of tables. The room was roughly half-full with men, who represented a all the levels of crime in Gotham… most of those crooks had probably entered through one of the Iceberg Louge’s backdoors, the ones which were hidden in alleys and “abandoned” warehouses around the Lounge… it looked like the Penguin had a guest who couldn’t show his (or her) face in civilized society without the cops being called.

It was actually good for Rachel’s plans that Matches Malone had been invited into the backrooms… the only reason she’d covered her scars with makeup and gone out as Matches Malone was to ensure that she could continue to use that alias. Matches was a useful tool in the war on crime in Gotham, since she could go into places Rachel Wayne didn’t know existed without the violent response Batwoman tended to inspire. Every time that Matches went to the Iceberg Lounge or a bar like the Ales of Justice she returned to the Batcave full of information--- crimes that were being planned, new crooks on the scene and locations of criminals’ hideouts. She’d been able to help Gordon make several important arrests because men liked to talk to Matches and they tended to tell them her secrets.

But then Matches had run into Andrei.

The week between Batwoman’s team up with the Question and her mission with the Justice League had been a busy one, running around Gotham as Matches. She’d spent most of her time bar hopping, using the cover story that her current boyfriend was too busy trying to impress Wayne to spend time with her… and while this had enabled Matches to make several key arrests, she’d also picked up a stalker.

His name was Andrei Dimitrov and while he dressed like an extra on Jersey Shore he was actually the son of Yuri Dimitrov, “the Russian” who ran the Dimitrov Crime Family. Andrei was involved with the family business, but he wasn’t all that high up… although he liked to pretend that he was the one calling the shots.

Andrei had been “slumming” at My Alibi, a small bar on the outskirts of his father’s territory, with some of his friends. When they walked into the bar they’d found Matches, surrounded by a crowd of men… she’d actually been “flirting” with a regular when Andrei reached the bar.

 _“Buy me a few drinks and you can call me whatever the hell you want!”_

Andrei took her up on that promise. He bought Matches a grand total of three drinks and, after being introduced, decided to call her “Char” for the rest of the night. Eventually Matches managed to excuse herself and she all but ran from the bar… she’d thought that had been the end of it--- but then Andrei had started stalking her. He’ actually paid people to inform him of which bar Matches was at. After a few nights of showing up wherever Matches was and buying her drink after drink after drink Matches couldn’t take much more--- the man was preventing her from gathering information! She was actually afraid that he’d get his dad to kill her boyfriend (who didn’t actually exist) so that he could take the man’s place.

So she’d been forced to “leave” Gotham. It was simple, Matches’ boyfriend heard about Andrei’s actions and decided that he didn’t like a mobster chasing after “his girl”… so Matches had to inform Cobblepot and several of her “favorite” bartenders that said boyfriend was whisking her away to Metropolis.

It had taken several weeks for Andrei Dimitrov to move on and start chasing after some new scantily clad woman… eventually Andrei’s romantic attentions had been turned on the only daughter of his mother’s best friend. The woman, who live up to the “scary Russian” stereotype had (according to rumor) gotten out a gun and forced Andrei to make an honest woman out of the poor girl… so Rachel had been fairly certain that it was safe for Matches Malone to return to Gotham. (Honest, Dimitrov’s mother actually scared her a bit.)

“Charlotte!” She was halfway across the room when Oswald Cobblepot appeared out of the crowd of crooks, wearing his usual suit, top hat and using an umbrella as a cane. “What a pleasure to see you again!”

Matches smiled and allowed the Penguin to take her hand, which he didn’t have to bend far to kiss. “Mister Cobbblepot, how many times do I have to ask you to call me Matches?”

“As frequently as I must request that you call me Oswald.” Cobblepot replied, waving the hostess away before he continued to lead Matches across the room. “I had a feeling that you would appear tonight, my dear.”

“Let me guess Oz, someone from the Ales called you right after I left.” Matches smiled.

“I like to be kept apprised of developments in Gotham--- and you, my dear, a quite a lovely development.” Penguin replied. “Although my contact neglected to inform me what exactly happened to bring you back to Gotham…”

“My boyfriend got in trouble with the boys in blue… and Metropolis is too clean for me.” Matches shrugged. “So what brings you into the backrooms?”

“A guest.” Penguin replied as they reached his private table, which was the one closest to the exit. He pulled out a chair for Matches, like a proper gentleman and helped her scoot in before taking a seat… and ordering an expensive bottle of wine for the two of them. “My guest should be arriving any second now, but feel free to order something to eat.”

“No thanks Oz, gotta keep my figure.” Matches replied with a smile as she tried to figure out who the Penguin’s guest was.

 _Catwoman only talks to Penguin when she can’t find anywhere else to sell her loot. Bane could be in town, but she’d only talk with Penguin if he had a job for her… almost everyone else is still in Arkham or Blackagate--- please don’t be Joker. Please don’t be Joker._

There was a sudden drop in the level of chatter in the room, and out of the corner of her eye Batwoman could see heads turning towards the entrance to the room--- only to very quickly turn away and return to their conversations, with a slightly disturbed look upon their faces.

 _Please don’t be the Joker. Please don’t be the Joker. Please don’t be the J…_

Penguin’s guest wasn’t the Joker… it was Gotham’s Former District Attorney, Hannah Dent.

Hannah Dent had been a beautiful woman… and a part of her still possessed the beauty of “Gotham’s White Knight”. She had long blond hair and blue eyes. Her skin was fair and unscarred… but that was her right side.

Hannah’s left side told the rest of the story--- the one where a good woman was kidnapped, doused in gasoline and chemicals and burned. The Joker’s chemical stew and the fire had transformed the left side of Hannah Dent’s face and grief had twisted her mind until it broke.  
Her blond hair burned off and when it grew back it had turned pitch black. Her skin had become a grey-red and sunken in, so that the veins and bones of her face could be clearly traced, making Hannah look like a drawing in a medical textbook. Her sunken skin had shrank back from her left eye, making it look unnaturally large and the left side of her mouth had been twisted up into a permanent smirk.

Hannah Dent, who now called herself Two-Face, had started altering her clothes to reflect the division that massive trauma and grief had created in her mind. Tonight she was wearing an elegantly tailored woman’s suit. On the right side the suit was white, the collared shirt underneath was black. On the left side it was reversed--- the suit was black and the shirt was white. She’d even went so far as to alter her jewelry. She was wearing pearl earrings and a pearl necklace… on the right the pearls were white, on the left they were black. The middle pearl on the necklace was actually split down the middle, half white and half black.

“Whose your friend Penguin?” Two-Face asked, her voice pulling Rachel out of her thoughts.

“Miss Hannah Dent, allow me to introduce Miss Charlotte Malone, more commonly known as ‘Matches’.” Cobblepot replied, but before he could stand up to pull out Hannah’s chair Two-Face sat down across from Matches.

“I prefer Two-Face.” Dent practically snarled at Penguin, but none of that anger was directed at Matches. “Have I met you before?” She asked, staring at Matches, a slightly confused look on her face.

“Oz says I’ve just got one of those faces.” Matches replied with a shrug, making sure not to look like she was staring at the burnt side of Hannah’s face… _This is going to be a long night._ Rachel mentally sighed.

It was three o’clock by the time that Matches had escaped from the Iceberg Lounge and returned to the Batcave in the Tumbler, which she’d left in an alley a few blocks away from the Iceberg Lounge. Luckily it had been a quiet night in Gotham, one of those rare times when the Dark Knight wasn’t needed. So Rachel didn’t bother to change out of Matche’s costume and into the Batsuit, she’d just hopped into the Tumbler and headed home. When she reached the cave she just threw on a sweatshirt and sat down at her computer to compose a email to Gordon.

Luckily the night hadn’t been wasted--- Penguin and Two-Face had dropped several clues to upcoming criminal activities in Gotham, and Rachel had a possible location for Hannah Dent’s hideout.

“Productive night Miss Wayne?” Alfred asked as he appeared at her side, holding his customary serving tray. However instead of a cup of coffee the tray held a glass of milk, which Rachel raised an eyebrow at. “You have a 10:15 meeting at Wayne Enterprises.” Alfred explained. “I shall be opening the curtains at _exactly_ 9:00.”

“You win.” Rachel sighed, taking the glass from Alfred. “I’m almost finished Alfred, I just have to finish this email to Gordon…”

“You ran into Two-Face?” Alfred asked, leaning over her shoulder to look at the screen.

“I went to the Iceberg Lounge.” Rachel replied before she finished the glass of milk. “Two-Face lost all her gang in that heist Gordon stopped two months ago, they’re all serving at least five years in Blackgate. She was talking with Penguin about forming a new crew.”

“And Penguin felt the need to impress Miss Dent by having a beautiful young woman on his arm?” Alfred sighed as he took the glass from Rachel and started heading towards the elevator. “I believe I prefer the Batsuit to this ‘Matches’ character… at least as Batwoman you wear body armor.”

“At least Matches doesn’t have people shooting at her.” Rachel shot back, a smile on her face which vanished at the exact moment that the doors to the elevator closed behind Alfred.

Rachel quickly finished her email to Gordon, sending it off through the usual maze of forwarding emails which made it next to impossible to trace the email back to her computer, let alone to trace it back to Rachel Wayne. After double checking that Alfred wasn’t coming back down into the cave Rachel opened up her files, heading back in the Archives, back to a time when Two-Face hadn’t existed… when Hannah Dent had been District Attorney, when she had been Gotham’s White Knight and one of Batwoman’s supporters.

Rachel Wayne had voted for Hannah Dent… she’d even (anomalously) contributed money to Dent’s campaign fund. When Bruce Dawes, her old friend and the only person (besides Alfred) who knew that she was Batwoman started dating Hannah she’d actually been happy for Bruce--- Hannah was a good woman, a ray of hope that Rachel had thought could burn away the crime and corruption that haunted Gotham.

After all that had happened to her, both in the League of Shadows and in Gotham right before Ra’s Al Ghul’s attack, Rachel had retreated from Bruce. Although her childhood friend had, in a misguided attempt to make Rachel smile, promised to wait for her, Rachel had never intended to hold Bruce to that promise.

Six months after he promised to wait Bruce Dawes was dating Hannah Dent and Rachel was happy for her old friend… and she’d honestly been considering telling Dent that she was Batwoman. But then the Joker had attacked Gotham and, before she could turn herself in, Hannah stood in front of the cameras and announced that _she_ was Batwoman.

And a mere ten minutes after Hannah Dent made this announcement Bruce Dawes had given Rachel a black eye because she had “allowed” Hannah to lie and be arrested. Bruce’s punch hadn’t been that strong, but it had still knocked her on the ground. When Rachel sobbed that she hadn’t known and swore that she’d planned on turning herself in Bruce had suddenly changed his entire demeanor, sitting down and wrapping his arms around Rachel and begging her to forgive him.

Then the Joker had kidnapped Hannah Dent and Bruce Dawes. The Clown Prince of Crime’s associates had snatched the two out from under the noses of Batwoman and Gordon…

 _For a moment I actually thought you were Dent! The way you **threw** yourself after him!_

The Joker’s voice echoed in Rachel’s mind… she wasn’t proud of her actions, she wasn’t proud of how she’d beaten the Joker in order to get the location where the two were being held. She’d told Gordon to go after Hannah, but when Batwoman entered the abandoned building where the Joker said Bruce was she found Dent, tied to a chair which had fallen over in a puddle of gasoline and chemicals.

 _NO! WHY DID YOU COME FOR ME?_

Hannah Dent had actually fought against the Dark Knight, as if there was something she could do the save the man she loved--- but time had run out, for Bruce, for Hannah… and for Rachel.

Bruce Dawes died moments before Gordon and his men would have rescued him. Whatever truth remained in Rachel Wayne’s life faded away as she became an alias for Batwoman. Hannah Dent burned but she lived to see her prophecy come true---

 _You either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain._

In a hospital room Hannah Dent woke with the rising sun, half her face covered in bandages. As a battered and bleeding hero she reached out and picked up her coin, the one she’d given to her boyfriend. Hope burned in her chest, cutting through the medication and the pain… but when she turned the coin over she found one side was scratched and burned.

A hero screamed as her hope was extinguished… and a villain, Two-Face, was born.

 _We thought we could be decent men, in an indecent time!_

Rachel Wayne blinked and looked back at her computer screen… without being aware of it she’d brought up some old news footage of Hannah and Bruce at some event and the clip was on repeat, playing over and over and over again.

Rachel quickly shut off the computer and all but ran away, heading up the stairs and into Wayne Mannor… just before she left the cave she turned back and looked at the now dark computer screen.

“I’m sorry.” Rachel whispered, not entirely sure who she was talking to.

[](http://wolverinegal.livejournal.com/16064.html)

 _Authors Note: “The Ales Of Justice” appears in the Batman comic “Close Before Striking”. “Clyde” is playing in the bar because some movie I recently saw had that song playing in the background during a bar scene. I have no idea which movie it was…_

 _Yes, it is possible to light a match from a book of matches with one hand… and it looks pretty damn cool.[Here’s a video](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rBZWuKTxOqc)._

 _The outfit Matches wears in the Iceberg Lounge is basically[this](http://robertryansart.deviantart.com/art/Robin-as-Escort-Girl-216460191)._

 _And on a completely random note I found[a cool photomanip](http://fanartexhibit.wordpress.com/2009/06/13/if-women-ruled-the-earth-the-dark-dame/)! It’s a Batwoman photomanip which comes extremely close to what Rachel looks like in costume. The only real difference is that Rachel’s cowl covers her hair._


	20. Difficile Est Longum Subito Deponere Amorem

_**Difficile Est Longum Subito Deponere Amorem = Latin for “It Is Difficult To Suddenly Give Up A Long Love.”** _

It was the night before Thanksgiving and it was raining in Gotham. On top of Police Headquarters the Batsignal was turned off as Batwoman landed on the roof and moved towards Commissioner Gordon, who stood next to the searchlight with an umbrella.

“Any luck with Two-Face?” Gordon asked, raising his voice to be heard over the wind and rain.

“No. I’ve found a few thugs who she decided not to hire, but no concrete leads on where she’s hiding out.” Batwoman replied. “I believe Scarecrow’s converted some intern to his way of thinking.”

“Again?” Gordon sighed as Batwoman held out a small evidence bag with a white powder. “Cocaine?”

“With a mild form of his fear toxin. I believe I took out all the dealers, but I couldn’t find their supplier.” Batwoman replied. “I’ll go over all the interns who had access to Crane.”

“Let me know if there’s anything I can do.” Gordon sighed as he took the bag from Batwoman, who nodded silently. “Have a good thanksgiving Batwoman.”

“You too Commissioner.” Batwoman replied before turning away from Gordon and leaping off the building, using her cape and grappling hook to reach a deserted rooftop a couple blocks away, where she landed and turned her gaze towards the sky.

“What brings you to Gotham Superman?” She asked, a slight smirk on her face.

“I was passing by and thought I’d say hello.” Clark replied as he landed on the rooftop next to Batwoman. “I don’t suppose you need any help?”

“Thanksgiving is usually quiet.” Batwoman replied. “Or at least quiet from my point of view—Gordon will probably have to deal with quite a few family quarrels that fall outside of my jurisdiction.”

“But he summoned you… didn’t he?” Superman asked, tilting his head to one side.

“He lit the signal because he noticed I’d left quite a few drug dealers tied up for the cops.” Batwoman explained. “Scarecrow’s found somebody to mix cocaine and his fear toxin and sell it to dealers… and you’re going to be late.”

“What?” Clark blinked in confusion.

“Don’t the Founders have a meeting tonight?” The Dark Knight asked.

“I’ve still got time.” Clark replied. “…you could come with me. Green Arrow wants to discuss how the League approaches non-powered heroes and your input would probably be appreciated.”

Batwoman was silent for a moment as Clark resisted the urge to fidgit uncomfortably.

“I’d rather not get involved in superhero politics.” Batwoman said, turning to look at her city. “Besides—I’m pretty sure Green Arrow doesn’t like me.”

“He’s warmed up to you a little.” Superman smiled. “Mostly because he’s jealous of your tech.”

Batwoman sighed. “I have a few errands to run… if nothing comes up I will stop by the Watchtower later tonight.”

“Thank you.” Clark smiled before glancing over at a clock on the side of a bank. “And now I better go. Happy Thanksgiving Batwoman.”

“Same to you.” Batwoman replied as Superman took off, heading up into the sky and vanishing into the clouds as he headed towards the Watchtower.

Far below Batwoman watched Clark Kent vanish, only leaving the rooftop once she couldn’t see Superman anymore.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It had been (roughly) four months since Superman had managed to convince Batwoman to tour the Watchtower and (unofficially) join the Justice League. Even though Gotham’s Dark Knight had gone on several high profile missions with other League members, Batwoman made it clear that she didn’t actually consider herself a “real” member of the team.

Once, after Clark had re-read a few Sherlock Holmes stories, he’d jokingly referred to Batwoman as the Justice League’s “consulting hero” in a conversation with Wonderman. Apparently David had shared the joke with someone else in the Justice League, because a few days later the Justice League’s official roster was updated. Now it had three sections—Members, Non-Members and “Consulting Heroes”.

Superman hadn’t been lying—Green Arrow had warmed up to Batwoman. He was no longer entirely critical of the Gotham hero, instead he was sort of hesitantly interested in her. Oliver had expressed interest in sparing with Batwoman and had expressed jealously over how good some of her tech was. It probably helped that Batwoman was one of a handful of non-powered heroes affiliated with the League.

When he reaches the Watchtower Superman heads for one of the meeting rooms, where the others are waiting for him. All of the founders are supposed to come to these meetings, which happened every other month, but Green Lantern is on Oa and Hawkman has some conflict, so Wonderman, Superman, the Flash and the Martian Manhunter are the ones to join Superman, while Green Arrow spends most of the meeting waiting for his chance to speak.

Most of the meeting is spent working on the boring parts of running a superhero team—figuring out shifts, rearranging teams, discussing new technology the league miht wish to invest in and so on. Green Arrow remains silent for most of this, only commenting a few times, mostly when he knows something the Founders either don’t know or have forgotten. Several times Oliver has been offered a more prominent position in the League, but each time he’s refused, claiming that he prefers to keep himself focused on Star City.

They begin to discuss Green Arrow’s ideas and concerns when the lights in the Watchtower flicker and the satellite’s systems alert them that something is wrong with their base of operations. The Martian Manhunter moves to the nearest computer to determine what has happened.

“The teleport appears to have malfunctioned.” J’onn decides, turning away from the computer to look at the other Leaguers. “It was used successfully, but the machine pulled more power than usual from the generators.”

The five heroes leave the meeting room and head towards the teleporter, which has been relocated to the largest room in the Watchtower, the only room that can hold (practically) the entire Justice League at once… the room is a large open space in the center of the Watchtower, with several levels and platforms. It’s always lit up… but when the heroes enter the room all of the lights are off and the only illumination comes from the various computer screens.

“I don’t like this.” Green Arrow whispers as he pulls out bow and arrow and prepares for the worst.

The five move into the room in a lose circle, their backs turned towards the center, their eyes sweeping the darkness that surrounds them.

“Who’d have the balls to attack the Watchtower?” Flash whispers.

Before anyone can answer him Wonderman suddenly throws himself in front of Green Arrow, his arms moving to block some small weapon. What looks like a tranquilizer dart bounces off David’s braclets and lands on the floor, it’s tip bent from the impact.

The lights in the room turn on, revealing that the Justice League is not alone. Surrounding the five heroes are what seem like hundreds of… Clark has to blink to make sure he’s not hallucinating. But the scene in front of him doesn’t change—the Justice League members are surrounded by an army of _ninjas_

“I’m not the only one seeing ninjas…right?” Ollie asks, his eyes as wide as all the other heroes.

As superheroes Justice League members run into what normal people would consider strange and unexpected on a regular basis… so a superhero’s definition of “strange” quickly changes to reflect this world view. When a superhero thinks something is strange it means that, to an ordinary person, that things is exceptionally strange… and a army of ninjas invading the Watchtower isn’t just strange… it’s _exceptionally_ strange.

Almost as one the ninjas advance and the five members of the Justice League end up in a heated battle… the ninjas appear to be “ordinary” humans, with no special powers. They don’t even have any advanced weapons—all they carry are swords, throwing stars and darts. However these ninjas are not only holding their ground against five superheroes, they’re actually gaining ground, forcing the League members apart and surrounding each one.

Soon each hero is surrounded by ninjas, so that they are basically fighting alone. The ninjas are obviously a well trained group—their fighting style is eerily similar, with calculated movements, each action following some sort of plan. It’s strange—most martial arts that Clark has seen look like a well choreographed dance, but while the ninja’s are using martial arts, it doesn’t look anything like a dance… it almost looks like the ninjas have taken several different styles and removed any bit of flair, reducing each one to it’s most basic components.

Green Arrow has somehow managed to stay by Wonderman’s side. The ninjas are too close for him to shoot arrows, so instead he uses his bow to parry sword strikes and smashes it into the heads, arms and legs of any ninja that gets too close. Wonderman stands beside him, engaging in hand to hand combat and occasionally using his bracelets to block darks and throwing stars.

The ninjas have formed a lose ring around Flash. Instead of fighting the Scarlet Speedster they are hurling darts and throwing stars at him, forcing Wally to keep moving and dodging, which prevents Flash from actually fighting back to making a plan to escape from the ring of ninjas.

The only real technological weapons which the ninjas possess are held by several of the ninjas who are attacking the Martian Manhunter… a few of them are holding flame throwers, which they use to keep J’onn immobile. They don’t seem to be trying to actually harm the Martian with the flames… they just seem to want to keep him in one place.

The worse part for Clark is that some of his attackers have kryptonite. There isn’t enough of the meteor rock to kill Superman or to make him fall to the ground screaming in pain… no the ninjas have just enough kryptonite to weaken Kal’El, just enough to muddle his thoughts and sap his strength.

As Superman fights he can’t help but think that the movements of the ninjas—their fighting style, the way they move, the way they hold themselves… it all seems somehow familiar. He can’t shake the feeling that he’s seen it somewhere before… but he can’t remember where it is that he’s seen it.

However Superman has bigger things to worry about… it’s taking all of the Justice League’s power and fighting abilities just to hold the ninjas back. Since the ninjas are keeping them (mostly) separated they don’t even have a way of contacting any of the other members… Clark can do little more than hope that Batwoman actually does decide to stop by the Watchtower after she finishes up in Gotham.

Almost as soon as Superman thinks of Batwoman the telepoter comes to life and, through the crowd of ninjas, Clark can see Batwoman appear. Without thinking he forces his way past the ninjas, ignoring the pain from the kryptonite he throws himself between the Dark Knight and the ninjas… only for Batwoman to step in front of him and glare at said ninjas.

And just as soon as the fighting started it stops. The ninjas step away from the members of the Justice League, turn to face Batwoman and kneel. The Justice League is too surprised to do anything and, strangely, Batwoman seems almost _bored_.

Someone in the crowd speaks in a language Clark doesn’t know but the ninjas clearly understand—the crowd parts, creating a clear path to where Batwoman and Superman are standing… and one of the ninjas emerges from the crowd, walking down the cleared path towards the two heroes. It is only because Clark is standing next to the Dark Knight that he notices her stance shift ever so slightly as her gaze focuses on the man moving towards them.

The mysterious man stops a few steps away from Batwoman, just beyond what Clark estimates to be arm’s length. He reaches up and removes his mask and hood and, for a moment simply stares at Batwoman. The man is Caucasian, with short brown-gray hair, blue eyes and a elegantly trimmed goatee. He appears to be in his late forties or early fifties, but is clearly physically fit.

“Detective.” The man says, bowing slightly to Batwoman, who looks at the ninjas (who are still kneeling) instead of replying. “I wanted to test them.” The man explains.

“And?” Batwoman asks.

The man turns to look at the other Justice League members for a moment before looking back at Batwoman, although his gaze briefly lingers on Superman. “Passing, but only just.”

“They’ll learn.”

“Of that I have no doubt.” The man smiles at Batwoman—the sort of proud smile that a parent who is proud of their child’s accomplishments wears. “After all, they have an exceptionally talented teacher.”

Batwoman doesn’t reply. The man sighs before bowing to the Dark Knight, an action which causes her to flinch visibly. Then he turns to his army and makes a hand gesture—the lights in the Watchtower flicker and, in the brief moment of complete darkness, the ninjas and their leader vanish as if they were never there, leaving Batwoman and the five other Justice League members alone.

“What the hell was that?!?” Green Arrow all but screams as the League members slowly drift towards the teleporter and Batwoman.

“It’s complicated.” Batwoman replies with a slight shrug.

“You know that guy, don’t you?” Flash asks.

“He was one of my teachers.” Batwoman replies, her voice betraying no emotion.

 _So that’s where I’ve seen that fighting style before._ Superman realizes as he looks at Batwoman. “So why did he attack us?”

“He wanted to see if you were worthy of having me.” Batwoman replies, a distasteful look on her face, as if she’s swallowed something sour.

“ _Worthy?_ ” Wonderman inquires as she inspects one of the darts that the ninjas had thrown at him.

“I was his best student.” Batwoman says, as if that explains everything. “You passed his test, so he shouldn’t attack you again…”

Before anyone can stop her Batwoman touches something on her utility belt and the teleport whisks her away, leaving five confused Justice League members behind.

“Okay, is anyone else totally _not_ surprised that Batwoman is a ninja?” Flash asks.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

~*~

The Justice League’s teleporter deposits Batwoman on top of Wayne Enterprises… and she’s not surprised to find that she has company. Henri Ducard, still wearing his black uniform stood a short distance away from where the teleporter had deposited her.

“I was impressed by the Kryptonian.” Henri informs her. “I did not expect him to throw himself between the League and you.”

“He’s a good man.” Batwoman replied with a sigh. “Why are you really doing this Henri?”

“Because you have chosen to join them.” He replies, ignoring the rain that continues to pour down.

“I’m not a member of the Justice League.” Batwoman replies.

“True, you aren’t an official one.” Henri shrugs. “But they will be watching your back… most likely during time when we can not.”

“I consider your debt repaid, now leave me alone.” Batwoman shot back, a snarl creeping into her voice.

“We both know it doesn’t work that way Detective.” Henri whispered as he reached into a pocket and pulled out a plastic bag. “Here—evidence concerning Crane’s latest activates.”

Batwoman silently took the bag from Henri and looked down, observing the papers and pictures that the plastic was protecting from the elements. “I could have found this on my own.”

“By working through Thanksgiving, which would only upset Alfred.” Henri replied, moving away from Batwoman. “Gotham should be quiet for a few days...”

There was a moment of silence before Rachel sighed and placed the papers in a pocket of her utility belt. “Thank you.” She whispered, her voice only just audible above the wind and rain as she turned her back to Henri and leapt off the building.

“Goodbye beloved.” Henri whispered before he also vanished into the night.


	21. Felix Dies Nativitatis!

**_Felix Dies Nativitatis!  = Latin for “Merry Christmas!”_ **

 

 _The Manor had sheltered generations of Waynes. It had stood at a time when they didn’t need walls, where a shotgun in the hands of a loyal butler was all that was needed to keep the night’s monsters at bay._

 _Now the estate is surrounded by tall walls, where guards patrol. The single gated entrance is heavily guarded and fortified. Outside those walls the place is just known as the Manor—no other name is needed, for there is no other house of note in Gotham, not any longer. There are, some say, manors in other places, but no matter how grand those homes may be, they all pale in comparison to Wayne Manor, for Gotham is the capital and the Manor is not only where Henri Ducard lives—but more importantly it is where he keeps his family._

 _It is a great honor to be allowed inside Wayne Manor—a great and terrifying honor. Only the most trusted members of the elite are allowed past the walls and only a select few of those trusted men and women are allowed inside the walls of the Manor itself, into the sanctuary of the Wayne-Ducards._

 _This is a world where Rachel Wayne didn’t fight back. A world where she couldn’t pull the pieces of her soul back together, a world where Henri “fixed” her, like she was some sort of jigsaw puzzle. A new Rachel emerges from the pieces of the old—Henri’s Rachel, a warrior woman who stands at his side in battle as city after city and then nation after nation falls to the might of Ra’s Al Ghul’s League of Shadows._

 _Once the battles are over the two of them return to Wayne Manor, which Henri quickly turns into a stronghold. Then, as he rebuilds Gotham into a majestic capital city, Rachel stays at the Manor, in a sort of seclusion._

 _In a sunlit garden, inside two sets of walls and with enough members of the League of Shadows to take over a small country, Rachel Wayne-Ducard sits with her children. The youngest—twin girls only a year old—are asleep in her arms. Her oldest—a son who is approaching manhood—practices swordsmanship with his tutor only a few feet away. Her family is a large one and still growing, each child more precious then a mine glittering with diamonds. Their laughter is sweet and pure in the evening sun, more beautiful to the ears then the finest symphonies._

 **_But_ ** _, a traitorous part of her mind reminds her, **it didn’t happen this way.**_

 _Rachel blinks as she starts to realize that she is dreaming… and as she comes to this realization the dream—the beautiful, terrible dream—start to slip. She becomes aware of the world outside the walls of Wayne Manor, the world beyond this happy sunlit garden… and she knows what life must be like. She notices the guns which the League of Shadows carry, she sees her son smile as he is trained to follow in Henri’s footsteps._

 _Yet despite all of this Rachel fights to hold the dream together. Part of her desperately wants—no, **needs** to stay in this warm sunlit place where pain and loss are nothing but dim memories._

 _But a far more powerful part of her—the part which embraces the night, the part which shuns the light and yearns for the darkness, the part of her which **is** Batwoman, forces her to recognize that his dream is not a utopia, it is a dystopia that she helped create._

 _In this world Wayne Manor is not her sanctuary, it is a gilded cage in which she is held captive._

 _In the sunlit garden her children scream—begging for their mother not to leave them. They cry out, grabbing and tugging at Rachel. They scream and they howl…_

 _But it is too late._

 _The dream is starting to dissolve as the dreamer wakes. Reality starts to creep in, darkness swallows the garden and Rachel can only scream as her beautiful children are turned into twisted rotten corpses, which crumble into dust in front of her eyes._

Rachel Wayne wakes up tangled in the black silk sheets that cover her bed. She takes a second to attempt to center herself—it is December 12th, fifteen days since Ra’s Al Ghul allowed Henri Ducard to attack the Justice League. Two Face is at large in Gotham—it seems that the former DA has decided to lie low for the holiday season. Thanks to the information Henri supplied her, Batwoman managed to take Crane’s tainted drugs off the streets. Both the Dark Knight and Gordon are fairly certain that Catwoman is back in town, but they don’t have any evidence to support that belief.

 

As Rachel extracts herself from the bedsheets she glances up at the ceiling of her bedroom, where her alarm clock projects the time. It’s two hours after sunset, which means that she has been sleeping for four hours… and Alfred has deliberately let her sleep two hours longer then she’d planned. So now Batwoman only has a half-hour to sort herself out

 

 

As she extracts herself from the bed sheet Rachel glances up at the ceiling, where the time is projected by her alarm clock. It is 6:30 pm, which means that Alfred has deliberately let her sleep two hours longer then she had planned, leaving her with only a half-hour to sort herself out and get suited up before she needs to teleport up to the Justice League’s Watchtower.

 

Batwoman has already fixed the hole in the satellite’s security protocols which allowed the League of Shadows to teleport in—in fact that was the first thing that Batwoman had done after her meeting with Henri. She’s going up to the Watchtower to address a new problem—the satellite has been experiencing random energy surges for a few days. Both Batwoman and the Martian Manhunter have gone over every 0 and 1 of the Watchtower’s programming and found nothing to account for the power irregularities. Together the Martian and the Gothamite managed to narrow down the list of what might be going wrong to three options… in order to narrow that list down to the real cause, Batwoman has to actually head up to the Watchtower.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The Martian Manhunter is waiting for Batwoman. She steps off the teleporter pad and silently follows J’onn down to a smaller room, which contains a small conference table and a large curved couch that faces a big screen TV. J’onn has laid out several schematics of the Watchtower on the table and there is a computer terminal in one corner.

 

As Batwoman starts examining the issues more closely the Martian informs her that Flash and Wonderman are a few floors down, using the satellite’s gym / sparring area and Superman is expected to stop by in a little while—the Last Son of Krypton is helping keep the Justice League’s costs down by flying up a container full of supplies.

 

Batwoman and J’onn work in silence for the most part, each taking one of the three possible reasons for the power losses and examining them in more detail—Batwoman eliminates the first possible reason fairly quickly and moves on to the second which, she soon realizes, is the source of the Watchtower’s power issues.

 

A few days before the power surges started Green Lantern had gone on a trip to Oa. When he returned from Green Lantern Headquarters, he'd brought back several piees of alien technology, and had them installed in the Watchtower. Those pieces of tech produced a level of power significantly greater then the human technology the Justice League had previously been using... little wonder the systems had been malfunctioning.

 

 

And because she has the worst luck in the world, right as the Dark Knight is explaining the issue to the Martian Manhunter the Watchtower decides that the power fluctuations are dangerous enough to shut down the satellite. The essential systems, air, heat and minimal lighting, remain functional, but the teleporter uses up too much energy to use during a power crisis.

 

It’s a good thing the Watchtower has shut itself down—with the power issues the alien tech has caused there was a chance, albeit a small chance, that the entire satellite could fail catastrophically. Better for three (four if Superman has already arrived) heroes to be stuck on the Watchtower for an hour or two then for them to die.

 

“What just happened?” Flash asks as he speeds into the room, Wonderman and Superman close behind him.

 

“The Watchtower didn’t like the power fluctuations. It shut down to prevent a catastrophic failure. Batwoman explains. “I can fix the tech responsible with a simple code rewrite, but I’ll have to reboot the system for the changes to take place… and that’ll take a while.”

 

“So we’re stuck here?” Superman asks.

 

“It takes too much power to open the hanger bay doors or use the teleporters.” J’onn informed the three League members as Batwoman concentrated on the relevant strings of code… she wanted to get off the satellite and back to Gotham, even if patrolling in the snow as miserably cold at the best of times.

 

“It’ll be like a slumber party… only without the sleeping!” Flash said with a smile. J’onn J’onzz phased through the floor, most likely going down to check on the backup generators which were keeping the satellite warm and the air fresh. Flash, Wonderman and Superman sat down on the couch and started talking, but Batwoman tuned their conversation out as she fiddled with the Watchtower’s programming… she paid just enough attention to notice that the three were playing truth or dare—heavy on the truth.

 

It doesn’t take long for Batwoman to finish the relatively minor rewrite to the Watchtower’s programming and start the system reboot. At some point J’onn has stepped into the room, explained that he is going to meditate and monitor the progress and the backup systems and excused himself before leaving once more. Reluctantly Batwoman steps back from the computer she was using, wishing that she’d brought a book with her—she’s been about halfway finished re-reading _The Magus_ for a few weeks.

 

“Hey Batwoman!” Flash calls out as he notices that she is finished working. “Truth or dare?”

 

“Neither.” Batwoman replies, reluctantly sitting down on the couch with the three other heroes. She ends up sitting on one end, next to Superman. Wonderman is sitting across from her, with the Flash to his left, next to Superman.

 

“Oh come on!” Flash sighs theatrically. “Socialize a little!”

 

“Fine.” Batwoman sighs, shifting her gaze to the Scarlet Speedster. “Truth, but I reserve the right not to answer.

 

“No problem!” Flash smiles. “Let’s see… oh, why do you only work at night?”

 

“I’m a normal human.” Batwoman replies. “I don’t have superpowers—I can’t fly, I’m not invulnerable. In order to be effective, in order to bring justice to Gotham, I have to be feared. In the light of day I’d just be a woman in a silly suit, something criminals would just laugh at. But in at night, in the dark, I become something criminals fear. Your weapons are your powers, but mine are the fear and the myths that surround me.”

 

“My turn!” Wonderman smirks. “Batwoman—truth or dare?”

 

“Wait…” Batwoman blinks in confusion. “Don’t I go next, since I answered Flash’s question?”

 

“Nope.” Wonderman smiles. “You already know everything about us, so it’s only fair to give us a chance to catch up. So truth or dare?”

 

“Truth.”

 

“Who was that guy that attacked the Watchtower?” Wonderman asks.

 

“I told you—he was my old teacher.” Batwoman replies with a huff. “If you must know, his name is Henri Ducard and he works for a man named Ra’s Al Ghul.”

 

“Your turn Supes.” Flash informs the Man of Steel.

 

“You can have my question.” Clark offers.

 

“Okay!” Flash smiles. “What is your… oh, how about favorite animal?”

 

Batwoman stares at Flash. Although her eyebrows are hidden by her cowl and she remains silent, she is sure that not only Flash, but Superman and Wonderman, can feel her raised eyebrow and practically hear her say “really?”

 

“Besides bats.” Flash adds quickly.

 

“Umm…” She has to think about her answer for a few seconds. “Quails.”

 

“Quails? The little birds that run along roads?” Superman blinks. “Why?”

 

“They travel in family groups.” Batwoman replies, looking away from the Justice League members as she tries not to blush, even though her cowl would likely hide the blush from the three other heroes. “I thought that was cute when I was little—the mom and the babies all running together.”

 

“Speaking of family…” Flash pulls his knees up to his chest as he smiles. “What do bats do for Christmas?”

 

“Patrol.” Batwoman replies.

 

“Seriously?” Superman asks.

 

“Seriously.”

 

“What about you David?” Flash asks, giving the Dark Knight a break as he turns to face the Prince of the Amazons. “What are your plans for the holidays?”

 

“I’m not sure.” David sighs. “To tell the truth, I fear that I am no longer truly welcome on Themyscira.”

 

“Why wouldn’t you be welcome?” Clark asks, clearly concerned for the other superhero.

 

“I am the only male Amazon.” David explains. “My sisters and my mother have always been kind to me, but they also speak poorly of Man’s World. Now that I have left the island…”

 

“You’ve suddenly noticed the difference between you and your sisters.” Batwoman says. “You knew that you were different, but now you’ve realized what that difference is… you never really understood that you were male before you left the island, did you?”

 

“Yes, you are right Batwoman—when I was young I never thought to ask why I was different from my sisters. I just thought it was due to the circumstances of my birth.” Wonderman sighed. “I am worried that my sisters will consider me to be corrupted by Man’s World. I cannot help but worry that they do not wish for me to return, that they think I am in some way tainted.”

 

“When you were unexposed to other men they could easily ignore what was mostly a physical difference.” Batwoman replies. “Now they are most likely fearful of your reaction to your upbringing and their views on men. You just need to go home and show them that you still care for them—that you are the child they helped to raise to adulthood.”

 

“Thank you Batwoman.” Wonderman whispered, a soft smile on his face.

 

The four heroes fall silent for a moment as Batwoman looks away, unwilling to meet Wonderman’s gaze. Superman finds himself wanting to reach out and place a hand on Batwoman’s knee, but decides not to. Flash looks like he’s about to say something, but before he can speak the lights in the room flicker and the computer station beeps.

 

“The reboot is completed.” Batwoman informs the group as she moves over to the computer. “The Watchtower is fully functioning again and the teleporters are online.”

 

“I should get back to Star City.” Flash sighs as he stands and stretches. “Hey, merry Christmas everyone!”

 

“Merry Christmas Flash.” Superman replies, smiling at the Scarlett Speedster, who waves at the other three heroes before speeding off towards the teleporter. Once Flash is gone Superman turns to Batwoman and Wonderman. “Look… my mom always makes too much food and she would understand if you didn’t take off your cowl….”

 

“Crime doesn’t take breaks for the holidays.” Batwoman replies, turning away from the two super powered men and heading off towards the teleporter. “But thank you.”

 

“That’s okay… Wonderman?”

 

“Thank you Clark, but I’ve decided to go home. I have been missing my mother and sisters.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

At 10:30 on Christmas Eve Batwoman is making her way across Gotham, heading away from the Bowery and towards the Cathedral of Saint Christina. At sundown she’d left the tumbler at the Cathedral and proceeded to patrol Gotham, checking in on her moles and stopping a few muggings of last minute shoppers before stopping to check in on the working girls. While most of Gotham would be spending Christmas with their family or a bar full of lonely men and women, some would be treating themselves to a prostitute… she’d also stopped at the Bowery to make sure the girls had somewhere warm to sleep and had ended up passing two folded up hundred dollar bills to a mother of two who had admitted she didn’t have enough money to pay for heat and presents.

 

Rachel had promised Alfred she would be back before 11, so that she could change, drink something warm and go with him to midnight mass at the very Cathedral the tumbler was parked next to… she was making good time when her Justice League comlink came to live.

 

 

“Bats?”

 

Batwoman blinked in confusion, wondering why he Flash was contacting her on Christmas Eve.

 

“Yes?” She replied, jumping off one building and firing off her grappling hook.

 

“Umm…” She could practically hear Wally shifting nervously around. “Can I come in—to Gotham—and um… se you?”

 

Batwoman landed on the building across the street from the Cathedral and thought about Wally’s request for a second. “I’m across from Saint Christina’s Cathedral.”

 

There was no reply from the comlink, but after a few seconds Wally appeared next to her, wearing his cherry red suit.

 

“What’s wrong?” Batwoman asked as she noticed that Wally was carrying a small plastic bag.

 

“Oh, nothing’s wrong. I just wanted to give you this.” Wally explained, holding out the bag. “Merry Christmas Batwoman!”

 

The Dark Knight took the bag from Wally’s hands, a soft smiling appearing on her face. “You shouldn’t have.” She whispered.

 

“Open it!” The Flash replied with a huge smile, practically vibrating in place. “Open it!”

 

Batwoman opened the bag, looked inside and almost laughed out loud—inside the plain plastic bag were four stuffed animals, three were the same size and one was slightly larger.

 

 

Batwoman pulled the lab open and couldn’t stop a smile from appearing on her face—inside the bag were four fluffy stuffed animals, one large and three small… one large quail and three smaller ones.

 

“I was picking up donated toys for an orphanage in Star City when I saw them.” Flash explained. “You said you liked quails, and I thought your cave could use some inhabitants.”

 

“Cave?” Batwoman asks, closing the bag and tying the top so that the stuffed animals wouldn’t fall out.

 

“Bats live in caves, so why wouldn’t a Batwoman have a cave?” Flash replies with a shrug.

 

“Thank you Flash.” Batwoman whispers. “I’ll clear off a shelf for them.”

 

“Well I gotta go, I’ve still got a bunch of donated toys to collect!” Flash laughs before running off.

 

With a final leap and a little gliding which was only made slightly wonkyby the added load of a plastic bag full of stuffed animal quails, Batwoman reached the Tumbler and tossed the plastic bag on to the passenger seat… she froze and turned around, somehow not surprised to find Superman hovering in the air behind her, snow flakes falling around him as a storm moved to cover Gotham.

 

“Can I help you?” Batwoman asked, looking up at Superman, so landed next to her.

 

“I’ve got a gift—for you and for your... financial backer.” Clark informed her, producing two items from some hidden pocket.

 

The first item was a small box which appeared to be made out of metal and was roughly the size of a ring box. The second item looked like a very simple cell phone, although it only had one button.

 

Batwoman silently took the two items from Superman and opened the box—only to almost drop it in surprise when she saw what it contained—a chunk of kryptonite the size of a ping pong ball. She quickly shut the box, which appeared to be made of lead, and looked up at Superman.

 

“This,” Clark pointed at the thing that looked somewhat like a cell phone. “Emits an ultra-sonic signal that only I can hear… so that’s incase either of you need me.”

 

“And this?” Batwoman asked, holding up the box with the kryptonite.

 

“…it’s incase I need you to stop me.” Superman replied.

 

“You trust me that much?” Batwoman asked in a whisper.

 

“Yes I do.” Clark replied, meeting the Dark Knight’s gaze head on. “Merry Christmas Batwoman.”

 

“Merry Christmas Superman.” She replied as the Last Son of Krypton took to the skies. She watched him fly away until she could no longer see the red and blue of his suit through the falling snow. Then she placed his presents in two separate pouches on her belt, climbed into her car and headed home to Alfred.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Wally stumbled into his kitchen at 12:15 on Christmas Day, intending to start making coffee and pancakes, only to find a wrapped package sitting in the center of his kitchen table. He instantly knew who the package was from—who else would use black wrapping paper at Christmas?

 

With a smile on his face Wally ripped open the present, not caring that Batwoman knew his “secret” identity and had, apparently, snuck into his apartment without him noticing.

 

The first thing the Flash found was a folded piece of paper, which turned out to be a picture of the four quails he’d gotten Batwoman, sitting in a little line on a metal shelf which seemed to be bolted to the wall of a cave. Underneath the folded piece of paper was a tiny stuffed animal—a little black bat.

 

The Flash smiled broadly and moved into his living room, where he placed the black bat in a position of honor on his book shelf.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Clark Kent made his way down the stairs of the Kent farmhouse and stopped in the living room to look at the tree he’d helped cut and decorate. His father was on the porch, knocking the icy mud which had accumulated on his feet while he was feeding the cows. His mother was in the kitchen, finishing up a hearty breakfast for her husband and son.

 

“Clark, this was on the doormat.” His father stepped inside the farmhouse, holding a small package wrapped in black paper in one hand. “Someone must have delivered it late last night.”

 

Clark blinked and took the package from his father, turning it over in his hands. The black wrapping paper was around a box made of lead and a folded piece of white paper was attached to the front by a bit of tape. As he followed his father into the kitchen Clark pushed the makeshift card open.

 

 _Merry Christmas. We challenge you to find somewhere on Earth this doesn’t work._

 _-BW & RW_

Clark tore open the wrapping paper and opened up the led box, revealing a cell phone and a small book which appeared to be a user manual and description of the phone… the phone had worldwide roaming, was pretty made of almost indestructible materials and, as a hand scribbled note informed him, was all paid up for the next fifty years.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

In the kitchen of Wayne Manor Rachel Wayne pulled a rolled up shirt out of her stocking and glared across the table at Alfred Pennyworth, who was reading the summery of one of his presents—Agatha H And The Airship City.

 

“Seriously Alfred?” Rachel asked, holding the shirt, blue with Superman’s symbol in red and yellow, with one hand and grabbing her cup of coffee with the other.

 

“Is it too small Miss Wayne?” Alfred asked innocently as he cracked open the novel and looked over the first page of text. “I was worried I had gotten the wrong size…”

 

 

TBC

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Merry Christmas everyone! Once again sorry for the delays. I’ve been working on a big project which I should be able to reveal in the next few weeks, but now that project is done and I can go back to writing this fic.


	22. Felix Sit Annus Novus!

**_Felix Sit Annus Novus! = Latin for “Happy New Year!”_ **

 

James Gordon is standing on top of Police Headquarters, next to the Batsignal, which isn’t illuminated. The Commissioner is wearing his usually tan trench coat, although he’s added several layers underneath it, and he has a colorful knitted scarf—his Christmas gift from Barbara—wrapped around his throat. In one gloved hand he holds a thermos, and two cups are sticking out of one of his pockets.

 

Gotham is covered in three inches of snow and another two inches are expected to fall in the next day or two. On the street below three men, stumbling after a few too many drinks, make their way towards a nearby bar, singing “Auld Lang Syne” off key.

 

Gordon sighs, his breath fogging up his glasses for a few seconds. He waits until the fog clear before sliding the arm of his trench coat back just far enough to check his wristwatch—five minute till midnight and the New Year.

 

The Comissioner quickly pulls his sleeve down and shivers slightly as he turns his gaze back towards the Gotham skyline. He’s not entirely sure if Batwoman will turn up—they’ve only done this once before, but he’s hopeful that the Dark Knight will allow this little vigil to become a tradition.

 

He glances over at the Batsignal, which he hasn’t had to illuminate for a week. He’d gotten one of the rookies to clean the snow off it earlier today. James would rather not use the searchlight… but Batwoman _is_ running out of time. He mentally debates if he should turn on the signal, or if he should just give up and go home.

 

“Sorry I’m late.”

 

Gordon smiles as he turns around to find Batwoman walking across the roof towards him, snow crunching under boots and snowflakes swirling around her as the light wind makes her cape falre out behind her.

 

“Some kids tried to rob a liquor store.” The Dark Knight explains.

 

“Don’t worry.” Gordon replies, handing the two cups to the Dark Knight before unscrewing the lid of the thermos. “There’s still time.”

 

Batwoman holds the two cups out as Gordon fills them up. She keeps one for herself and hands the other cup back to the Comissioner.

 

“Hot chocolate?” She asks as she looks down at the liquid, sounding slightly surprised.

 

“I don’t know about you, but I’d like to go to bed after this.” Gordon explains, turning back towards downtown Gotham as he checks his watch again.

 

“You didn’t have to do this.” Batwoman remarks. She’s standing slightly behind and to the right of the Commissioner, right on the edge of his peripheral vision.

 

“It’s nice to have traditions.” Gordon replies, shifting slightly so he can smile at the Dark Knight.

 

The wind shifts and from downtown Gotham the Commissioner and the hero can dimly hear the crowd screaming out the count down.

 

_5… 4… 3… 2… 1…_

_HAPPY NEW YEAR!_

 

“Here’s to survival.” Gordon says, turning to the right and holding out his cup. He catches Batwoman smiling slightly as she taps her cup against his. The two start drinking their hot chocolate as the look out at Gotham. “Hopefully we’ll be doing this again next New Years Eve.” Gordon sighs.

 

“Hopefully.” Batwoman agrees. “Happy New Years Commissioner.”

 

“Happy New Years Bat—” Gordon turns around, only to find himself alone on the roof of Police Headquarters, with an empty cup perched on top of the Batsignal. “…woman.” James finishes with a sigh before draining his cup. He snatches up the cup Batwoman left behind and heads towards the door to the stairway.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

All things considered winter in Gotham isn’t too bad, especially after winter in Ra’s Al Ghul’s Monastery. The Tumbler gets special snow tires, Batwoman puts on long underwear underneath the batsuit and wears special boots to keep her from slipping when she’s running on snow covered rooftops. Thanks to this patrols aren’t too bad, since the long underwear and all the running, jumping and climbing keep her fairly warm. In addition the Tumbler has a very good heating system—one that doesn’t take too long to warm up and that she can activate remotely so that the tank like car is warm and toasty when she climbs in.

 

There are only two circumstances which can make Batwoman dislike winter in Gotham—getting wet and stakeouts. She’d only had to deal with getting wet—well more like getting _soaked_ once, last winter, when she’d had to dive into the Gotham river in order to escape an explosion. She’d emerged shaking like a kitten and spent the next week sick as a dog under a mountain of blankets.

 

Stakeouts were, unfortunately, much more common. If she can remain in the Tumbler then they’re okay, but when she has to get out and hide on a rooftop then it gets very old, and very cold, every fast… especially when it’s actually snowing, since then the snow starts to pile up on her shoulders and cape and she can’t shake the freezing mass off for fear of attracting attention.

 

But right now Batwoman isn’t worried about either of those circumstances—she’s done what she set out to do, welcome in the New Year with Commissioner Gordon and now she’s heading back to the Tumbler and going home.

 

Rachel Wayne has been Batwoman for a little less than two years… and in that short time she’s learned to trust her instincts, at least when it comes to her city. So when, as she runs, jumps and swings her way across Gotham, she suddenly feels like she’s missing something she stops and makes a quick inspection of the rooftops, streets and alleys around her.

 

There is someone else running on Gotham’s snow covered rooftops. The Dark Knight instantly recognizes the runner and starts moving towards the woman who is dressed in a black bodysuit. Her hands are covered by black gloves, which have tiny pieces of metal where her nails would be. On her feet are plain black boots. Her head is covered by a cowl very much like Batwoman’s, except her ears are not sharp points like the Dark Knight’s stylized bat ears, but the softly curving ears of a cat. The woman’s eyes are covered by goggles which have a slight orange tint to their glass. A long black whip is attached to her belt and she has a black backpack strapped tightly to her back.

 

It looks like Catwoman has given up on California and decided to return to Gotham. If the backpack is any indication, she’s just stolen something a bit larger then her usual jewelry and precious stones. As the Dark Knight moves to cut Selina Kyle off she wonders how the other woman is keeping warm—the “Catsuit” always seemed too tight to have any extra layers underneath.

 

With one final jump and a short glide Batwoman lands in front of Catwoman and crosses her arms as Selina skids to a stop in front of her.

 

“About time you showed up—this criminal needs her beauty sleep.” Catwoman remarks, yawning theatrically.

 

“You’ll get plenty of sleep in Blackgate Prision—or Arkham Asylum if Sharp has his way.” Batwoman remarked.

 

“Don’t you know it’s more polite to buy a girl dinner first?” Catwoman pouts as she pushes her goggles up and stepping closer to the Dark Knight. “Especially when I haven’t broken any laws tonight.”

 

Batwoman frowned and pointedly shifted her gaze to Selina’s backpack. “Selina, do you honest expect me to believe that you just felt like going for a late night rooftop run?”

 

“Oh Bats, how else was I going to get you to come out and play?” Catwoman asked as she shrugged off the backpack and held it out to Batwoman. “And if you’re going to call me Selina can’t I at least know your name?”

 

Batwoman doesn’t reply, instead she takes the backpack from Selina… at least when Catwoman flirts there are (usually) no chemicals or explosives involved. While the Dark Knight may end up walking away from an encounter with Selina with scratches on her suit and (occasionally) her skin, at least she doesn’t end up hallucinating and tied to her bed as Alfred and Lucius scramble to come up with an antidote for the Joker’s latest batch of laughing gas.

 

The black backpack is heavier then Batwoman expected it to be, but the only thing in the backpack is a box covered in Christmas wrapping paper.

 

“Merry Christmas… sorry it’s a little late.” Selina purrs, licking her lips suggestively. “I was having so much fun in California that I lost track to time.”

 

Batwoman sighs and rips the wrapping paper, quickly extracting a plain brown box and peering inside—where two statues, carved from a dark wood, lie in a pool of packing peanuts. It’s dark enough on the rooftop that Batwoman can’t really make out the statue’s features… they seem to be two humanoid figures, probably intended to be bookends since their design incorporates a thick L shaped piece of wood. More importantly a quick scan of the box and it’s contents reveals no electronics, so Selina isn’t trying to track Batwoman with the present.

 

“You know, technically just wearing that outfit is a violation of your patrol.” Batwoman remarks as she closes the box and shoves it back into the backpack, which she zips closed.

 

“Oh, are you my _personal_ probation officer now?” Selina asks, taking a step forward and wrapping one arm around Batwoman’s shoulders. “How often would you like me to check in?” She asks, her free hand tracing the bat symbol on the Dark Knight’s chest.

 

“How many times do I have to tell you Selina?” Batwoman growls, struggling not to look at Catwoman, even though the two are so close that their noses are almost touching. “I’m not interested.”

 

“Oh Batwoman… I don’t care what Ivy and Harley say—you’re fun!” Selina laughs, before she grabs the Dark Knight’s cowl and pulls the slightly taller woman down for a deep kiss.

 

Batwoman blinks and stands frozen for a second, her eyes open as she struggles not to push Selina away. Slowly she reaches down for a pair of handcuffs off her belt and, once she has a good grip on the cuffs, Batwoman tries to pull back from the kiss and secure Selina’s arms… only to get kicked in the gut as Catwoman backflips away. The kick knocks the air from Batwoman’s lungs and the smoke bomb that Selina throws at her feet mere seconds later doesn’t help her catch her breath.

 

“Happy New Years Batwoman!” Catwoman calls out as she vanishes into the night, leaving the Dark Knight standing on a roof with the backpack containing Catwoman’s present sitting next to her feet.

 

“Happy New Years Selina.” Batwoman sighs, making a mental note to email Gordon that Catwoman is back in town as she picks up the backpack and heads towards the Tumbler, which is only a few roofs away.

 

As soon as she sees the tank like car Batwoman pushes a button on her belt and the Tumbler starts to warm up as she descends from rooftop to trash and snow covered alley. She opens the driver’s side door and tosses the backpack on to the passenger seat. The Dark Knight is about to climb into the car when she hears something shifting in the pile of trash cans behind her.

 

In the blink of an eye Batwoman whirls around, pulling out a batarang and preparing to throw it, only to find herself face to face with nothing. She blinks, not relaxing or leaving her fighting stance as she takes a step forward  so that she can investigate the piled trash cans and the small mound of half-frozen trash and snow that surrounds them. The trash and snow has recently been disturbed, but not by someone walking through the area… then the trash cans sift again and Batwoman hears a soft whimpering noise, a noise whose source she instantly recognizes.

 

The batarang is quickly shoved back into the appropriate pouch on her belt as Batwoman leans forward and carefully shifts one of the trashcans aside… revealing a tiny black puppy, without a collar, shivering in the snow and whimpering pitifully as it stares up at the Dark Knight.

 

Rachel smiles under her cowl and reaches out, easily scooping the puppy up in one hand, she holds it close to her chest as she walks back to the Tumbler, which is practically radiating heat. She pushes Selina’s backpack off the passenger seat and carefully sets the puppy near the seat’s back, where it hopefully won’t fall off on the drive back to Wayne Manor.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The last time the Tumbler and Bat-pod were updated and serviced Lucius Fox had been kind enough to install a proximity alarm in both vehicles. The alarms were connected to a small machine which looked like a beeper that Alfred had either clipped to his belt or in his pocket at all times. When the beeper went off it meant that Rachel Wayne was about ten minutes away from the Cave.

 

Often the beeper wasn’t needed, since Batwoman would call ahead if she was injured or required anything special upon her return and usually the Dark Knight will at least give Alfred a heads up that she is returning… but this time it seemed that calling home had slipped Rachel’s mind. Hoping that his employer hadn’t fallen or been forced to jump into a river again, Alfred snagged a few towels before taking the elevator down to the Cave.

 

When the elevator doors open Alfred finds himself looking at Batwoman who doesn’t appear to be soaking wet, but is carrying a small black puppy. The butler shifts the towels he’s holding around so that he can accept the puppy from Rachel.

 

“Picking up strays Miss Wayne?” He inquires as he wraps the small dog in one towel before handing the other to the Dark Knight, who heads towards the changing area, which is located right next to the cave’s heating system.

 

“I couldn’t leave him in the snow!” Rachel remarks as she steps into the smaller room and quickly strips out of the Batsuit. In a few seconds she emerges clad in the clothing Alfred had laid out for her—pajamas, long socks, a fluffy black robe and slippers. “By the way, Catwoman’s back in Gotham. She gave me a late Christmas present.”

 

“And what did Miss Kyle give you?” Alfred asks as he looks over the puppy, who wags his tail as the butler checks him for wounds.

 

Rachel heads over to the Tumbler, where she opens the passenger side door and pulls out a black backpack, which she carried over to the desk so that she can examine Selina’s gift in the light. She was right—the two statues are bookends, and the figures are semi-human… but when Rachel actually looks at the statues she blushes and almost drops them.

 

The bookends are two humanoid figures, each one leaning against a sort of wall of plain wood intended to actually hold the books back. One is a catgirl, a human figure with cat ears peaking out from under her hair and a thin tail emerging from the base of her spine. The other is… well Rachel guess that it would be called a “batgirl” since the female figure has what appear to be bat ears poking out from under her hair and her arms are part of bat like wings.

What startled Rachel, what caused her to blush and almost drop the statues, is that both the cat and the bat girl are naked… and they’re kneeling in what Rachel can only describe as “playboy positions” –knees spread, back arches so that their boobs are pressed out, arm resting in between their knees so that their upper arms frame their boobs and, in a _small_ nod to modesty, both cat and bat have been positioned so that their covering themselves, the cat with a conveniently placed tail and the bat with her arms/wings.

 

“Miss Kyle certainly does have a… _unique_ taste in art.” Alfred remarks dryly as he holds the puppy out to Rachel. “Your stray appears unharmed. I believe he is a Great Dane, although there might be some German Sheppard in his heritage.”

 

Rachel instantly abandons the “erotic” bookends, trusting that Alfred will find a suitable method of disposing of them and takes the puppy from Alfred’s arms. He’s not shivery anymore and when Rachel cuddles him in one arm and starts petting him with her free hand he wags his tail and licks at Rachel’s fingers, which causes the Dark Knight to smile.

 

“I’ll make a run to the pet store tomorrow.” Alfred remarks as he gathers up the towels and heads back towards the elevator, Rachel following close behind him with the puppy in her arms, the bookends lying forgotten on the desk behind her. “What name should I have put on his collar?”

 

Rachel inspects the little black puppy, mentally picturing the full-grown Great Dane that he will one day become. As she considers and rejects several different names the puppy yawns and blinks up at her sleepily.

 

“Ace.” She decides.

 

“Excellent choice Miss Wayne. I was afraid that you would want something like ‘Bat-hound’.” Alfred remarks a soft smile creeping onto his face as he watches Rachel and the puppy. “Do remember that it is _highly unlikely_ that ‘Ace’ is housetrained.”

 

“I was afraid you would go with something like ‘Bat-hound’.” Alfred remarks, a soft smile creeping onto his face as he watches Wayne and puppy. “Do remember that it is _highly unlikely_ he is housetrained.”

 

_Author’s Note: Ace is based off of his Batman Beyond appearance.[So picture this](http://26.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_l9hngwZlou1qbtkcuo1_500.jpg)._

_My amazing friend[attalander](http://attalander.livejournal.com/), did some fanart of the bookends Catwoman gives Batwoman. You can find that (NSFW) [fanart here!!](http://wolverinegal.livejournal.com/20873.html)_


	23. Brevior Saltare Cum Deformibus Viris Est Vita

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a small crossover with my Sherlock (BBC) Fic "Illuminating The World". Knowledge of that fic is not necessary for enjoyment of this chapter.

**  
_Brevior Saltare Cum Deformibus Viris Est Vita = Latin for “Life Is Too Short To Dance With Ugly Men.”_   
**

 

The rich, the famous and those celebrities who aren’t rich _or_ famous but still manage to be worth mentioning, have their own set of traditions, events whose continued occurrence is based upon the fact that they have “always” occurred and things which are done because they have “always” been done. One of these traditions is LexCorp’s winter ball, which started during the days when the company was still called LuthorCorp and Lionel Luthor was its CEO. The company that Lionel (originally) built throws a ball every year in the middle of January and invites the upper-class and the celebrities to dance and drink the night away… and unlike a lot of events thrown by the rich/famous/celebrity, quite a few members of the press are invited and allowed to roam freely among the guests.

 

Lex Luthor has managed, once again, to make a startling recovery after the WayneLex T7 incident, something he achieved by encouraging the belief that the entire scheme had been masterminded by the Joker and that Lex’s involvement was merely his attempts to survive the insanity of Gotham’s Clown Prince of Crime.

 

The ball ends up occurring on Friday January 16th, a relatively warm night in Metropolis, where there is a good layer of snow covering everything and a overcast sky, but no snow in the forecast.

 

Both Clark Kent and Lois Lane have been invited to the LexCorp “Midwinter” Ball… most likely because Lex is socially obligated to send an invite to _The Daily Planet_. Lois is the one taking the most active role—in fact she’d all but ordered Clark to enjoy himself… as long as he kept his eyes open and made notes on anything scandalous he sees or hears.

 

So Clark ends up sitting at a table in the corner, people watching with Oliver Queen as Lois scurries around the room trying to get some comment that will elevate their story from “oh, look at the rich and famous!” to “oh, look at the rich, famous and law breaking!”

 

Despite their difference in social standing no one really looks twice at Clark Kent and Oliver Queen sitting together in a corner. The two men are publically know to be friends—not _best_ friends, just friends. This is possible because Green Arrow and Superman don’t team up that often—and most people have forgotten all about “the Blur”. As long as Clark and Oliver restrict their interactions to “oh, how nice to see you here!” and a few, infrequent “I’m in town, let’s get lunch/have a beer” then they’re okay.

 

Oliver is trying to explain some big deal he’s just closed to Clark, using a napkin as an impromptu piece of paper when a familiar voice interrupts Oliver’s speech and Clark’s confused thoughts…

 

“Ollie! Mrs. Cloutier is trying to set me up with her son _again_.”

 

Standing in front of their table is Rachel Wayne, who is wearing a low cut blood red silk gown and an exasperated look. Her gown might as well have been strapless—the sleeves don’t help hold up the dress, in fact they appear to be only on the dress so that they can hand around her shoulders. The dress’s fabric is pulled tightly around her waist, showing off her figure and making it look like someone has wrapped her in a large silk bed sheet. Below the fitted waist the silk flows smoothly to the floor, brushing against the ground and flaring out in back to create a small sweeping train.

 

The Gotham billionaire’s long black hair is loose, it hasn’t even been tucked behind her ears. Around her neck are two strands of black pearls as well as a simple silver pendant on a chain. Black pearl stud earrings and a matching black pearl bracelet on her right wrist complete the outfit.

 

“Well, then you’ll just have to sit with us.” Oliver replies with a smile, kicking a chair out and watching as Rachel sits down, smoothing out the lap of her dress. “That way Mrs. Cloutier will be too scared of the commoner to bother you.”

 

Clark sighs theatrically and rolls his eyes as Rachel laughs, her head dipping forward slightly as she politely covers her mouth with her right hand.

 

“It’s been too long Oliver—I can’t remember the last time I saw you.” Rachel says as she glances around and raised her right hand slightly—effortlessly drawing the attention of a passing waiter. She is polite to the man as she asks for a coke, something that Clark doesn’t see too often among the rich and famous.

 

“Neither can I.” Oliver leans back in his chair and swirls his drink around before taking a sip. “We should work on something together—it’d give you a _great_ excuse to visit Star City.”

 

“I’ll ask Lucius. I’m not entirely sure what we have in the air at the moment.” Rachel replied. “There are a few defense contracts—no weapons or anything lethal of course—which might benefit from Queen Enterprises’ resources and expertise.”

 

“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t ask you to work on a weapon.” Oliver huffs, as if Rachel has just insulted him. “I’m no Lex Luthor.”

 

“I never said you were.” Rachel rolls her eyes and playfully smacks Ollie’s shoulder as the waiter returns with her drink. Her gaze shifts to Clark and she smiles. “Hello Smallville.”

 

“Please, Miss Wayne, call me Clark.” Clark says with a smile.

 

“Only if you’ll call me Rachel.” She replies, taking a small sip of her soda.

 

The last time Clark saw her Rachel Wayne was sitting in a sunlit room, playing the piano and singing and not looking at all surprised to find Superman in her home. She hadn’t even seemed surprised when Superman told her he knew of her relationship with Batwoman… Clark wonders if Rachel recognizes him, or if Batwoman told Rachel his secret identity.

 

 _…she knows who you are_. _But she didn’t tell me… and she’s not going to tell anyone else_.

 

It may be naive, even stupid, but for some reason Clark Kent trusts that Batwoman has kept her promise—that while Rachel Wayne may supply Gotham’s Dark Knight with money and supplies, Batwoman is not in the habit of giving too much information to Gotham’s most eligible bachelorette.

 

“Alfred got me today’s copy of the _Planet_ … I enjoyed your article, the one about the former spy coming clean to her husband. You managed to avoid making it sound like something that belonged in _The National Enquirer_.”

 

“Thank you.” Clark said, blushing slight at Rachel Wayne’s compliment. “To be honest, I’m a little surprised you came to this—especially after that debacle with the robots.”

 

“What can I say? Lex is a bastard, but the world I live in includes him. So I have to at least _pretend_ to play nice.” Rachel sighed. “I’m sure Ollie will agree with me.”

 

“I couldn’t have put it better.” Oliver smirked. “So, Rachel, I just have to ask the question that is on everybody’s mind—are the rumors true?”

 

“Which rumors?” Rachel frowned. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Gotham sorta likes to talk about me.”

 

“The rumors that Lex Luthor asks you on a date at least once a week.” Oliver clarified.

 

Rachel frowned and blinked before silently counting something out on her fingers. “Yes… if you average it out. I believe he tried twice this week, but I was too busy to answer his calls.”

 

“Too busy?” Clark asked. “What, were you closing some deal?”

 

“Nope—I got a puppy.” Rachel replied, a silly grin spreading over her face and making her look like a five year old on Christmas. “Which, apparently, warrants five different interviews.”

 

“So what sort of dog did you get?” Oliver asked. “Some little yapping thing that’ll fit in your purse?”

 

“Well, he fits in a purse _now_.” Rachel laughed. “His name is Ace and we’re pretty confident that he’s a Great Dane—he’s a rescue, so were not sure. Someone abandoned him on the streets and… well he followed me home.”

 

“He followed you home?” Oliver laughs.

 

“Hey, that’s how I got my childhood dog.” Clark objected. “Shelby followed me home and then he followed me to and from school for a week.”

 

“Ace hasn’t stopped following me yet. The only reason he’s out in the limo with Alfred instead of in here with me is because he’s still small enough for me to pick up.” Rachel smiled. “He started following me, so I picked him up and handed him to Alfred through the window.”

 

“So you’re not planning on staying long?” Clark asked.

 

“Just long enough to be seen.” Rachel replied. “Then I’ve got to head back to Gotham—I’ve got an important meeting with Lucius in the morning.”

 

Oliver looked like he was about to say something—probably he was going to ask Rachel for a dance—but the exact moment he opened his mouth to start talking his phone went off. Oliver pulled his phone out of a pocket and glanced at the number, before sighing and excusing himself, leaving Clark Kent and Rachel Wayne alone at the table. Rachel watched the other billionaire leave before turning back towards Clark.

 

“So are you going to ask me or should I ask you?” She inquired, slowly standing up.

 

“Ask you what?” Clark blinked.

 

“Well, I promised Alfred that I’d dance at least once.” Rachel explained with a playful smile. “So what do you say?”

 

“But… but I’m a reporter!” Clark managed to stutter, which only made Rachel’s smile grow even larger.

 

“So?” Rachel smirked and leaned forward slightly. “Brevior saltare cum deformibus viris est vita.”

 

“W… what? Is that _latin_?” Clark asked.

 

“Yes.” Rachel smirked, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “It means ‘life is too short to dance with ugly men.’ Now if I stand here any longer Lex—or someone even _worse—_ is going to try and dance with me, when I’d much rather dance with you.”

 

“I’m… I’m not a very good dancer.” Clark mutterers as he stands up.

 

“Then I’ll lead and you can follow.” Rachel replies, taking Clark’s hand and leading him out on to the dance floor, the crowd parting to allow her passage as Clark was pulled along in her wake. “This way I won’t have to dance backwards in heels.”

 

Their right hands clasped together and Clark’s left arm wrapped around Rachel’s waist. He resisted the urge to look down at his feet and struggled instead to meet Rachel’s gaze. It felt strangely natural to allow the billionaire to lead him around and around, his usual clumsy feet moving through the steps as if he’d been doing so all his life…

 

Dancing with Rachel Wayne reminded him of fighting at Batwoman’s side—terrifying yes, but also secure. Rachel was trying to help him not make a fool of himself and Batwoman had shown concern, even for a man who didn’t usually need someone to look out for him. _I bet they’re good friends… Rachel and Batwoman. I wonder if Ace actually followed Batwoman “home” before latching on to Rachel?_

 

All too quickly the song ends and Rachel steps back… Clark has the sudden urge to tighten his grip, to prevent the billionaire from leaving, but such an urge is quickly quashed and his arms fall limp to allow Rachel her freedom.

 

“Thank you.” Rachel whispers, a bright smile on her face. “You dance beautifully… sure you don’t want to come to Gotham and be my kept boy?”

 

“I’m flattered, but I already have a nice job.” Clark laughed.

 

“Oh well, it was worth a try.” Rachel sighed before quickly stepping forward, going up on her tiptoes and dropping a light kiss on Clark’s right cheek. “Goodbye Clark… call me if your ever in Gotham!”

 

And just as suddenly as she’d entered Lex Luthor’s ball Rachel Wayne was gone, leaving a blushing, stuttering Clark Kent behind her—with a perfect outline of Rachel’s lips painted on his cheek in her red lipstick.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Rachel hadn’t been lying—Ace _was_ waiting for her in the limo with Alfred. Ace had been sleeping on a seat towards the middle of the limo, but when Rachel sat down he lifted his head and blinked sleepily as he sniffed the air. With a tiny puppy yawn Ace stretched before he hopped off the seat and raced over to Rachel. The billionaire watched as the puppy tried to jump up on the seat next to her, only to find himself too small to reach.

 

Before Ace could start to whimper Rachel reached down, picked him up with one hand and deposited him in her lap as Alfred rolled down the divider.

 

“Were you a good boy for Alfred?” She asked Ace, who seemed to almost frown up at her, as if to say “ _Of course I was!”_

 

“Did you dance at least once?” Alfred asked as he started the car and started heading towards the airport where a Wayne Enterprises private jet was waiting to take her back to Gotham.

 

“Yes.” Rachel sighs as Ace rolls over and demands that his belly be scratched. Rachel obeys almost instantly. “I danced with Clark Kent.”

 

“Is that wise Miss?” Alfred asks, frowning slightly as he looks into his rear view mirror at his employer and her pet.

 

“He didn’t suspect anything.” Rachel replies. “I might actually have helped persuade him that Rachel Wayne and Batwoman are two different people… Oh, would you be so kind as to send him something flirtatious? I made him an offer again.”

 

“I take it he turned you down again?”

 

“Yep.” Rachel sighed as Ace started licking her hand. “Pity, it’d be nice to have a Superman around the house.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Ace is confused by airplanes. He has pretty much full reign to the small private plane, although Rachel holds him in her lap during take offs and landings. As soon as the plane is airborne she sets him down and, once Rachel returns from changing into a shirt and jeans in the small back bedroom of the plane, Ace decides to curl up on top of her feet and go to sleep.

 

Alfred places a glass of water, a pad of paper, a pen and Rachel’s phone on the table in front of her. She smiles up at the butler in thanks and cracks her knuckles before picking up the phone and flicking over to the email application. (One of the many joys of a private plane—not having to turn off your cell phone.)

 

 **YOU HAVE 7 NEW MESSAGES.** Her phone informs her. Two of those messages are spam and get instantly deleted, one gets opened, is discovered to also be spam (albeit well disguised spam) and joins it’s brother in her spam folder. One message is from Lucius’ secretary and contains some last minute changes to the plan for tomorrow’s meeting…

 

The last three messages were all sent within seconds of each other, but each one comes from a different address… although the three men responsible for the messages are most likely in the same room when the messages were sent, maybe even within arm’s reach of each other.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 **  
_From:_   
**   
_Mycroft Holmes_   
_  
**To:** _Rachel Wayne_  
 **Subject:** Nightlife In Gotham  
 **Date:** _Friday, January 15 th,  2015 9:42 pm__   
__

_Contacts among Arkham employees (armed and unarmed) have informed me that a substantial bounty has been placed upon a certain Knight. Reported amount varies, but appears to be roughly 2.5 million dead, 5 million alive._

 _I will continue to monitor the situation._

 _-MH_

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 **  
_From:_   
**   
_Sherlock Holmes_   
_  
**To:** _Rachel Wayne_  
 **Subject:** \--no subject--  
 **Date:** _Friday, January 15 th,  2015 9:45 pm__   
__

**  
  
**

_Mycroft is “reasonably” sure that an attack will occur the next time you’re inside Arkham. He is taking reasonable precautions._

 _Don’t die. There are precious few people of any appreciable intelligence in the world._

 _-SH_

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 **  
_From:_   
**   
_John Watson_   
_  
**To:** _Rachel Wayne_  
 **Subject:** They’re Worried  
 **Date:** _Friday, January 15 th,  2015 9:50 pm__

 _Of course we all worry every time you or Gotham is mentioned, but this time they can’t figure out who is behind the reward._

 _Stay as safe as possible._

 _-John_

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ****

 **  
_From:_   
**   
_Rachel Wayne_   
_  
**To:** _Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock Holmes, John Watson_  
 **Subject:** Don’t Worry  
 **Date:** _Friday, January 15 th,  2015 10:20 pm__

 _At least I go into battle wearing armor, unlike a certain consulting detective and former army doctor I could mention. I’ll restrict my visits to Arkham for a while and stay on alert if I have to go in._

 _-Rachel_

 _PS: John I expect photos in your next email. Mine are all 4/5 months old._

 _PPS: If you have any where My and Lock aren’t trying to kill each other I would appreciate a copy of those as well._

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Rachel falls asleep after sending her response to the “London Boys” as Alfred will occasionally call them… She met the Holmes brothers when she traveling incognito across the world, during the trip that had ended with her sitting in a Chinese prison. She’d contacted them again upon her return to Gotham, when it became apparent that she needed more dirt on Earle and didn’t have the resources necessary to get said dirt… she hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting John Watson in person, but she had talked to him several times, over the phone and through email and enjoyed following his blog.

 

She wakes up to find Alfred’s hand on her shoulders as he gently shakes her.

 

“Miss Wayne, there is a… a _situation_ which requires your attention.”

 

Instantly she is awake and alert. Rachel picks up Ace and quickly leaves the private jet. One of her cars is waiting for her on the runway and Alfred quickly retrieves the keys and settles into the driver’s seat.

 

“What sort of situation Alfred?” Rachel asks, already slipping into her Batwoman persona as the car starts moving towards Gotham.

 

“A situation involving the Joker.” Alfred answers. “Unfortunately he decided to steal from Hanson Chemicals at the same time that the Police had scheduled a raid—based off information you supplied, I believe.”

 

“Money laundering and easy body disposal for the mob.” Rachel nodded, running a hand through her hair before pulling it up into a ponytail. “Let me guess—the Joker got a hold of someone and there’s a standoff?”

 

“Correct.” Alfred said as he pulled into the warehouse which sat on top of the mini-cave.

 

“I’ll take the Tumbler—the roads are too icy for the Batpod.” Rachel decides before stepping out of the car and quickly closing the door behind her so that Ace couldn’t follow her. “Head back to the Manor. I’d appreciate it if you’d monitor the comlink.”

 

“Of course Miss Wayne.” Alfred replied, nodding to Rachel before the two parted ways—Rachel heading down into the mini-cave and Alfred taking the car (and Ace) back to Wayne Manor.

 

Within a few minutes the Tumbler, with Batwoman inside, was racing towards Hanson Chemicals and the Clown Prince of Crime. She’s less than five minutes away when Alfred’s voice comes over the comlink.

 

“It is 11:50 and the Joker has informed Commissioner Gordon that he will send out his hostages if you appear.”

 

“I’ll be there soon.” Batwoman replies as she glimpses the lights of cop cars on the street ahead and slows down so she doesn’t run some poor officer over.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Clark Kent’s eyes snap open as he gasps and snaps upright, levitating for a second before he regains control… he doesn’t know what exactly has woken him from such a deep sleep. Clark shivers slightly, although he isn’t cold and rubs at his eyes before looking over at his alarm clock.

 

 **1:04 AM**

 

Confused, Clark closes his eyes and listens, effortlessly finding the heart beats of those he holds dear—only to find that his loved one’s hearts are all strong and steady, so it can’t be his subconscious monitoring of their hearts that has awoke him.

 

But Clark can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong—his body somehow feels as if it doesn’t entirely belong to himself, like he’s sharing his lungs and heart with someone… confused and extremely disturbed Clark gets out of bed and is about to start changing into the cape and tights when he sees his computer—in a few seconds he’s pulled up his preferred news site and flicks over to the “Breaking News” section.

 

His legs suddenly can’t support himself and he almost falls forward, only managing to catch himself by throwing out his arms at the last possible second. Clark forces himself to take a deep breath and closes his eyes. It takes all his will to slowly count to five before he opens his eyes and looks at the five words which have caused his blood to run cold.

 

 **  
BATWOMAN SHOT BY ARKHAM GUARD   
**

 

 _Author’s Note:[Behold, Rachel’s dress.](http://is10.eporia.com/company_1001/754150.jpg?cvt=jpeg)  
_


	24. Nemo Me Impune Laccessit

**_Nemo Me Impune Laccessit = Latin for “No One Can Harm Me Unpunished”_ **

_But Clark can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong—his body somehow feels as if it doesn’t entirely belong to himself, like he’s sharing his lungs and heart with someone… confused and extremely disturbed Clark gets out of bed and is about to start changing into the cape and tights when he sees his computer—in a few seconds he’s pulled up his preferred news site and flicks over to the “Breaking News” section._

_His legs suddenly can’t support himself and he almost falls forward, only managing to catch himself by throwing out his arms at the last possible second. Clark forces himself to take a deep breath and closes his eyes. It takes all his will to slowly count to five before he opens his eyes and looks at the five words which have caused his blood to run cold._

**_ BATWOMAN SHOT BY ARKHAM GUARD _ **

Clark Kent didn’t bother reading the small paragraph which accompanied the headline. In the blink of an eye he was across the room, opening his secret compartment and puling out the Superman cape and tights… when he was interrupted by his cell phone—the one that Batwoman had given him as a Christmas present. Abandoning his suit Clark picked up the phone and looked down at the text message he had just received.

**I’m alive. Go back to bed.**

  **-BW**

Clark tilts his head to one side, blinks and quickly scans the room for cameras… only to find nothing hidden in his walls. Deciding that Batwoman had guessed he would worry, Clark hesitates for a second, wanting to reply but not knowing what to say. He finds himself reaching out with his senses, trying to find the Dark Knight’s heartbeat, even though he hasn’t committed it to memory like he has for his mother’s heartbeat. For a second he _thinks_ that he’s somehow managed to find Batwoman’s heartbeat—but then his phone rings once again.

**She’ll be fine.**

**-Rachel**

 Clark sighs in relief... while Batwoman might lie to him if she thought the situation warranted it, it’s somehow hard for him to picture Rachel Wayne lying to him… under _any_ circumstances. After all, this was the woman who had danced and flirted with a lowly reporter… as well as asking said reporter to become her kept-man not once but _twice_.

The Last Son of Krypton finds himself wondering how Rachel Wayne would react to finding out that Clark Kent and Superman are the same person… he imagines that the Gotham billionaire wouldn’t react all that much—she might do some variation on the line “Seriously, how do those glasses work?” but he’d probably not be too shaken up, all things considered. After all, this was a woman who, when confronted with the Clown Prince of Crime, had chosen to respond to his advances by kneeing him in the groin.

Clark’s fingers shake slightly as he types out a response, addressing the text message to both Batwoman and Rachel Wayne, or at least to the numbers which had been stored under those names in the phone when Clark had gotten the phone.

**Let me know if I can do anything. ANYTHING.**

Although he feels pretty confident that Rachel Wayne and Batwoman told him the truth, Clark finds that he can’t fall asleep again… not even after he informs the Justice League (via J’onn) that the Dark Knight is alive and, apparently, “fine”. So instead of sleeping Clark sits on his bed and pretends to read a book. In reality he stares at the book, re-reading the same sentence over and over again as he checks his phone every other second, hoping that either Rachel or Batwoman will call or text him again… but neither woman’s name appears on the screen of his cell phone that night.

Or the next.

Or the one after that.

It’s not like the two women have dropped off the face of the earth… well it’s not like Rachel Wayne has dropped off the face of the earth. Rachel Wayne makes her usual public appearances, although to Clark’s knowing eyes she looks tired and rundown. Batwoman, on the other hand, isn’t even being whispered about… and the Batsignal remains dark. Clark tries calling Batwoman, but she doesn’t pick up the phone and his text messages aren’t returned. He calls Rachel once and she doesn’t pick up, although a few hours later he gets a text messages explaining that she was in the middle of some top secret negotiations.

The closest he gets to communicating with Batwoman is four days after the Dark Knight is shot when, just seconds before he’s about to go off to confront Lex Luthor, a message appears on his phone from Rachel Wayne.

**BW says Lex has kryptonite. Get backup.**

**-Rachel**

As the days pass and Batwoman remains in hiding, the story behind the headlines start to emerge… the Joker had broken into Hansom Chemicals to steal some supplies on the same night that the Gotham Police had already decided to raid the factory, which was a front for the mob. This had resulted in a standoff between the Gotham Police, the Joker and his henchmen—which had quickly become a hostage situation.

The Clown Prince of Crime and the Dark Knight had fought and Batwoman had ended up dragging the Joker back to Arkham Asylum. Apparently standard operating procedure was for Batwoman to escort the Joker back to his cell, only leaving the Asylum after the door had been closed and locked behind the madman. Batwoman had been walking with the Joker and three Arkham guards (two armed, one unarmed) and had been about to shove the Joker into his usual cell when one of the two armed guards had turned around and shot the Dark Knight.

Before the two other guards could react the Joker lunged forward, effortlessly slipping out of his handcuffs and pulling a knife from some hidden pocket. Before the guard who shot Batwoman could turn his gun on the Clown Prince of Crime, the Joker had stabbed that guard roughly fifty times. After doing this the Joker had dropped his knife on the ground and calmly walked into his cell and sat on his bed while the remaining guards locked him in.

In the chaos of the shooting and the Joker’s attack on the shooter, no one had been paying much attention to Batwoman. By the time that the two remaining guards turned to the Dark Knight to see what her injuries were Batwoman was gone—with only a small puddle of blood, roughly the side of a fist, on the Asylum’s linoleum floor.

Security cameras had captured the shooting—the bullet appeared to have hit her in the stomach, but the exact spot and the exact amount of damage that bullet had done weren’t clear. The wound had sent Batwoman falling to the ground, her right hand pressed to her left side, her face twisted into a grimace as she pulled out a spray can and doused the blood stain in some sort of chemical before she seemed to melt into the shadows. Whatever Batwoman sprayed on the blood made it useless for forensics—they hadn’t even been able to establish her blood type, let alone get a DNA profile.

 Less than two minutes after the shooting Batwoman and her Tumbler had vanished into the maze like streets of Gotham… and she hadn’t been seen since.

In the six days since that night, the shooter, who had almost died of blood loss on the way to Gotham General Hospital, had been making steady recovery… only to suddenly drop into a coma so deep that his doctors were convinced he would never wake up. It would have seemed that the man had gotten off easy… but his coma wasn’t the usual sleep of the near-dead.

Instead the man seemed to be trapped in some sort of nightmare. The hospital had been forced to tie the man’s limbs to the bed so he wouldn’t hurt himself as he tossed and turned in the grips of some horrific nightmare—there had been a problem with the man’s screaming, but he’d effectively lost his voice after two straight days of screaming and pleading. The Gotham Police had yet to establish why the Arkham guard had tried to kill Batwoman… he had no close friends, his ex-wife hadn’t spoken to him since their divorce and he was estranged from his two children, who lived with their mothers.

Since the shooting the Joker hadn’t tried to escape.

He hadn’t even _joked_ about escaping. The Joker had actually informed one of the older guards, a man named Aaron Cash, that he wasn’t going to even think about escaping until his informants in Gotham told him that Batwoman was on her feet and patrolling once more. There were even rumors among the Arkham guards and the Gotham Police Department that the Joker had gotten the other “big names” in Gotham (Such as Two-Face and Poison Ivy) to promise to either stay put in their Arkham cells or lie low in the outside world until Batwoman reappeared. This rumor had apparently made it’s way to the common criminals of Gotham, since not a single criminal was stirring in Gotham, not even a pickpocket.

So while Gotham was experiencing a crime rate of practically zero  Batwoman hadn’t been seen or heard from for six days… on the seventh day Clark took a personal day and flew to Gotham as Superman to meet with Rachel Wayne.

He doesn’t expect Rachel Wayne to lead him to Batwoman… although he imagines that the Dark Knight is (most likely) hiding out either in Wayne Manor or some safe house—perhaps tied to a bed to keep her from going out and making her injuries worse by patrolling Gotham. Rather he just wants to see Rachel, to actually hear her say that Batwoman is all right…

The last time that Clark saw the Gotham Billionaire was at Lex Luthor’s party, only a handful of hours before Batwoman was shot. The last time that Clark had seen Rachel as Superman she had been playing the piano and singing… for some reason Clark sort of half expects to hear her singing, to find Rachel sitting at her piano, her fingers racing over the keys.

But, even with his superior senses, Superman can’t detect singing or piano music when he lands on Wayne Manor’s front door. (After making sure that there isn’t anyone watching said door… after all, it wouldn’t be polite to draw press attention to Rachel Wayne.) Feeling more than a bit silly, in his tights and cape, Superman rings the doorbell and smiles warmly at Alfred Pennyworth, who simply gestures for the superhero to follow him into the Manor.

The butler leads Superman into a different section of the Manor, almost on the other side of the ancient house from the study in which Superman and Rachel Wayne had last talked… the room which Alfred leads Superman to is a library which looks like it contains more volumes then Clark thought one person could possibly own.

The shelves are all tall enough to require rolling ladders, and in one circular alcove the shelves go up two stories, with a graceful balcony providing access to the upper half of the shelves. The library is quite a large room, but in some sections the shelves can’t contain all the books, which means that a few tall, but neatly organized, piles of books have been created to deal with the overflow. Elegant stained glass windows allow natural light into the space, and the only section of wall that isn’t covered by bookshelves is the space around and above an ornate fireplace, in which a large fire blazes. Above the mantel this is a family portrait—Thomas Wayne stands behind his wife Martha, while a young Rachel sits in her mother’s lap.

Facing the fireplace is a fainting couch with dark red cushions and dark brown wood. In front of the couch is a low coffee table, while two matching armchairs frame the fireplace. The couch, table and much of the floor around and in between them is covered by books, pages of handwritten notes and printer paper with graphs and numbers. Lying somewhat sprawled on the fainting couch is Rachel Wayne, wrapped in a old knitted blanket, with a book and a notepad in her lap and a pen in her hand.

She’s not completely covered by the blanket, her right leg and her body from the waist up are sticking out, so Clark can see that the Billionaire is wearing black sweatpants and t-shirt which is a few sizes too big for her… but what really strikes Superman is how—well how _tired_ she looks. The Gotham Heiress looks like she’s run a marathon after not sleeping for several days.

Alfred steps out of the room, leaving the two of them alone as Rachel notices she is no longer alone and looks up at Superman—a soft, weak smile appearing on her face, which just makes her look even more world weary.

“Are you okay?” Superman can’t stop himself from asking.

“I caught a nasty bug.” Rachel explains, her smile diming a little. “It should pass… I didn’t expect to see you again—Batwoman seemed pretty pissed off the last time you came round.

As she speaks Rachel closes the book in her lap, marking the place with her pen and gesturing to one of the two armchairs, which is empty.

“She prefers that I stay out of Gotham.” Superman explains, awkwardly sitting down in the chair which Batwoman had offered him. “I… I’m just worried about her.”

Superman may be feeling akward—dressed in brightly colored tights and a cape, sitting in “Stately Wayne Manor” across from the most powerful woman in Gotham… but that’s nothing compared to how Rachel Wayne, the Dark Knight of Gotham, feels.

Rachel Wayne is, as Superman struggles to explain why he’s come to Wayne Manor, about two seconds away from losing what little sanity she still has after you factor in the fact that she usually spends her nights running around Gotham dressed as a bat.

Rachel has been so insanely careful—lining her mask with lead, laying out false trails for the reporter to follow, hiding her scars with makeup and playing the part of “Rachel Wayne – Gotham Billionaire”… all so that Clark Kent/Superman will believe that Rachel Wayne is nothing but Batwoman’s patron. But now Clark Kent— the Man of Steel, the Last Son of Krypton, the god damn Superman— is sitting in front of her, asking her about Batwoman’s health!

All the man has to do is use a tiny bit of his x-ray vision to look at her side, or smell the lingering scent of blood and antibiotics and her entire act will be impossible to maintain… but _somehow_ the Man of Steel hasn’t noticed.

Rachel wishes that she could split into two people, so that Batwoman could come walking into the room and berate Clark Kent for not minding his surroundings… Superman honestly believes that Rachel Wayne and Batwoman are separate people, so he isn’t looking for anything that would contradict that belief. He probably wouldn’t even suspect that Dark Knight and Billionaire are the same person unless he sees Batwoman removing her mask to reveal Rachel Wayne’s face.

“Didn’t she text you?” Rachel asks, doing her best to ignore the fact that her side is starting to hurt again… the painkillers Alfred has all but force fed her for the past six day must be wearing off.

“Yes, right after it happened.” Superman sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I guess… I just needed to talk to someone, instead of just trading text messages back and forth.”

“She was lucky.” Rachel sighs, surprised that Clark Kent cared enough about Batwoman to come, in person, to find out if the Dark Knight is okay… the League had been satisfied with a two word email: **I’m alive.**

“Lucky?” Superman asks, leaning forward slightly.

“The bullet hit her left side—it got deflected by part of her body armor, but slipped under another part. Apparently it hurt like hell and bled like crazy… but it was simple enough to sew up—I’ve got a doctor we can trust.”

“Thank you.” Clark smiles, visibly relieved... and Rachel can’t stand to look at him. Part of her _desperately_ wants to tell Clark that she is Batwoman, to show Clark her wound and swear upon the graves of her parents that she is going to be okay.

“I… I guess I should go. Don’t want Bats getting too angry with me.” Clark stutters, awkwardly smiling at Rachel as he stands up. Rachel can hear laughter in Superman’s voice, and she wants to smile, but it suddenly hurts to turn her lips up even the slightest bit… Clark doesn’t notice, and when Rachel finally manages to speak the Man of Steel is already turning to leave.

“Superman.”

The word ends up being a whisper. Rachel doesn’t look up at the man… but somehow she knows that the Man of Steel has stopped and turned to face her.

“Batwoman… she knows your real name.” Rachel whispers. “Do you… do you ever wish that she’d tell you her’s?”

The silence which follows Rachel’s question seems to stretch out for hours… and Rachel has to fight the urge to fidget. She clenches her fists in the fabric of her sweat pants to prevent herself from nervously picking at her bandages, which suddenly feel like a corset around her waist.

“Only if she’s ready.” Clark finally replies.

Rachel looks up, her mouth opening, words forming—but the Last Son of Krypton is already gone, leaving Rachel Wayne alone in her family’s library.

“Fuck.” Rachel allows herself to swear, one hand rising to her face, where tears have inexplicably started to form. Her other hands goes to her left side, resting gently on top of her latest scar.

She shouldn’t be feeling anything for this man, this alien who doesn’t know that Rachel Wayne and Batwoman are both illusions, only separated by the fact that Batwoman is _slightly_ closer to the truth. She shouldn’t want to tell Clark her secret—not after everything that happened between her and Henri, not after Bruce’s death and Hannah’s disfigurement, not after Ra’s Al Ghul ended two lives on Rachel Wayne’s twenty-third birthday.

A strangled sob works it’s way past Rachel’s lips. She wants to curl into a ball, but her waist hurts too much for the amount of movement she’d have to do to curl up… so instead she leans against the padded back of the fainting couch and wipes away the tears who existence she’d can’t (and doesn’t want to) explain.

The door to the library opens once again. Rachel frantically wipes her eyes on her shirt and straightens up, flipping open the book on her lap. To the untrained eye it would seem like Rachel was an actress and some unseen director had just called “cut”… but Alfred Pennyworth’s eye is far from untrained and Ace, despite being a small puppy and only living in the manor for less than a month, can sense his master’s sorrow.

Ace runs over to the fainting couch and sits down in front of Rachel, wagging his tail and whimpering at her until she reaches down and scoops the puppy up. Ace has put on weight since Batwoman found him shivering in an alley, but he’s still rather small and it’s easy enough for Rachel to pick him up one handed.

As soon as Rachel deposits him on her lap Ace turns around a few times, like he’s a cat, before he flops down and gently nuzzles at Rachel’s left side, giving the t-shirt a lick before settling down as Rachel starts petting him.

“I have to go out tonight.” Rachel informs Alfred, who had pulled Batwoman out of the Tumbler when the blood loss made it impossible for Rachel to do anything other than moan in pain… Alfred had been the one to keep her from bleeding to death while Mycroft found them a doctor who could be trusted. “I can’t have Clark coming around again… he just might wise up to me.”

“Would telling him really be so bad?” Alfred inquires as he places a small stack of letters o the coffee table in front of him. When Rachel doesn’t reply, the Butler opens up the first letter and takes a few seconds to read it. “Mr. Gregory Geoffrey has sent you a letter with two types of poetry in which he asks you out on a date.”

“Two types of poetry?” Rachel asks, raising one eyebrow in confusion.

“Horrible and stolen.” Alfred replies. “He also managed to misspell not only your first name—he used a y—but also his own name… twice. How should I reply to Mr. Geoffrey?

“Don’t. If he ever brings it up I’ll just tell him it was lost in the mail.” Rachel sighs as Ace rolls over so that she can scratch his belly. “What else is there?”

“Several requests for funding from various charities and such, which I will forward to your mother’s trust for inspection… the usual junk which has already been disposed of… and it appears that Isabella Cygné is celebrating her 29th birthday—”

“What is this, the third time she’s turned twenty nine?” Rachel smirks, interrupting Alfred.

“The fourth I believe… and she’s decided that Febuary 19th is a better fit then July 21st… according to this she’s hired an entire circus to entertain her guests—clowns, animals, even a family of acrobats.”

“I have to go, don’t I?” Rachel sighed, blowing a lock of hair out of her face, the sudden sound startling Ace slightly.

“I’m afraid so…” Alfred smiled warmly, gathering the mail as he stood up. “I will inform Mrs. Cygné that you shall be in attendance and make a note on your calendar… now if you still insist upon going out tonight, I insist that you continue to take the painkillers Mr. Holmes’ doctor left for you.”

“Thank you Alfred.” Rachel sighed as the Butler silently excused himself, leaving Rachel alone in the library with Ace curled up on her lap.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Batwoman did little more then drive around Gotham a few times in the Tumbler and meet with Commissioner Gordon on the roof of Police Headquarters—but Rachel knew her “return” would be highly publicized, because the press had been camped out on the surrounding rooftops and the moment she’d stepped out of the shadows flashes had started going off like it was the Fourth of July.

Alfred was grateful that Rachel didn’t pull any of her stitches… but that didn’t stop him from forcing her to swallow the next round of painkillers and something to help her sleep… as was usual Rachel Wayne fell asleep with Ace curled up against her side—this time he was on her left, and as she started to fall asleep the puppy nuzzled at her bandaged side, and licked the surrounding skin once before settling down.

Rachel had hoped that the sleeping pills and the painkillers would either give her your standard high on medicine strange dreams or, if she was very, very luck, they would make it so she didn’t dream at all.

Unfortunately that isn’t the case… when Rachel Wayne falls asleep she dreams of Henri Ducard.

_Rachel is thrown into a dark damp cell, where she has to bend when she stands, where a pile of straw is the only semi-dry spot and there are several pools of rank rancid water and most of the floor is muddy gravel._

_She hasn’t slept since she entered the prison—eight days ago. It’s not safe to sleep here, even if you make a pact with another prisoner, even if one of the few who will speak to the foreigner agree to watch over you. At any time the guards can come in and they will come in, especially if they think you’re weak or vulnerable… and you’re most vulnerable when you’re asleep._

_So far the guards have only tried once, on the second day. Rachel had scared them off easily—she’s not yet the fighter she will one day be, but she is good enough to hold back two guards who are used to women submitting to them. The next day they hack off her hair, which had reached her elbows, as if she is a female version of Samson._

_There are men in the prison. In fact most of the prisoners are male. In the cells the sexes are separated, but at meals and when they are let into the yard they are allowed to mingle. The more desperate of the women—the addicts and the members of the oldest profession—sell the only thing they possess to the men who have something to trade. The guards either ignore these transactions or, more commonly, seek out those women when the prisoners return to their cells._

_Rachel is the only foreigner. The dirt and grime have made it easier for her to blend in with the other women—but a few male prisoners grew tired of her refusing and had attacked her during “breakfast”. When she defeated six men the guards dragged her off and threw her into this wet cell… she wonders if they will come back, now that she’s in solitary confinement and so close to falling asleep standing up that she’d be easy prey._

_When she picks herself up off the floor—mud now weighing down her thin shirt and pants—Rachel notices that she is not alone in the dank cell._

_Henri Ducard is standing in front of her, immaculately dressed, as if the filth of the cell can’t touch him. Henri asks her if she wants to fight the criminals of the world one by one, she snarls at him… and he calls her “Miss Wayne”. When she stares at him in surprise, in confusion, when she asks how he knows, he smiles as he replies— **The world is too small for someone like Rachel Wayne to disappear… no matter how deep she chooses to sink.**  _

_He offers her not only a way out of the prison, but a way out of the hole she has fallen into since the death of her parents and the death of their murderer. He offers her a path, a guide, a teacher… as Rachel shakes from the cold Henri tells her that tomorrow she will be released, he tells her of the blue flowers and the mountain… he tells her that if she picks that flower and climbs then she will find what she is looking for._

_Henri doesn’t tell Rachel that she won’t be harmed—that the guards will leave her alone for her last night in the prison… somehow Rachel just knows that, for one night, she can sleep without fear._

_The next morning she is tossed out the back of a moving truck… she finds the flower easily and starts to climb the mountain, thinking of nothing but the man who had promised her a path… and the unknown man he serves, this Ra’s Al Ghul who can help her find her way_

_She is weak. Her legs shake as she walks, her hands aren’t strong enough to grab hold of the rocks as she climbs… just as Rachel catches her first glimpse of the Monastery, where Henri and Ra’s Al Ghul are waiting— she has to sit down, before she falls._

_She huddles against a rock, trying to escaping the howling wind, trying to gather enough strength to continue her climb… she blinks and finds herself looking at Clark Kent as he wraps her in his Superman cape. She tries to speak, to ask Clark what he’s going on a mountain in China… but nothing comes out but a weak cough_

_Without speaking Clark sweeps her up in his arms and the cold vanishes, as if she’s just been completely immersed in a hot tub. Rachel lets her eyes drift closed as Clark starts walking down the mountain and her hand clutches at his shirt… he’s not wearing the rest of his outfit, instead he’s just wearing a simple suit, the sort of thing he wears when he’s out working as a reporter for The Daily Planet._

_“Don’t worry. We’ll be home soon.” Clark whispers._

TBC

_Author’s Note:[This is a fainting couch.](http://diaryofasmartchick.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/07/fainting-couch.jpg) I want one of these in my house one day._


	25. Ad Nomen Vultus Sustulit Illa Suos

**_Ad Nomen Vultus Sustulit Illa Suos = Latin for “On Hearing Her Name She Raised Her Eyes”_ ** ****

****

February 14th marks the twenty-eighth day since Batwoman had been shot by an Arkham guard… apparently or a five million dollar reward. It marked the twenty-fifth day since that guard had slipped into a nightmarish coma that he was obviously never going to come out of.

That Valentine’s Day also marked the twenty-second day since Batwoman had returned to the streets… yet despite this, on the morning of the 14th, the Joker was still in his cell and seemed to have no desire to leave. This could be due to the exceptionally cold winter that Gotham was currently in the grips of, since while Arkham _was_ a mental asylum, at least it was _warm_.

That Valentine’s Day the Joker _did not_ break out of Arkham Asylum.

He simply slipped out of his cell, knocked out a few guards, stole a walkie-talkie and used it to demand two things: Batwoman and Chinese food.

So, once again, the Dark Knight found herself sitting on the roof of Arkham Asylum’s Intensive Treatment Unit eating Chinese food with the Joker. She’d had much worse Valentine’s Days—although the Joker’s obvious concern for her health and his repeated attempts to get Batwoman to him her scare are pretty disturbing, even for the Clown Prince of Crime.

The Chinese restaurant where the Gotham Police had picked up the food had been informed that the order was for Batwoman and the Joker... but for some reason the bag contains _three_ fortune cookies instead of two.

The Joker cracks open the first cookie and extracts the slip of paper inside as Batwoman finishes off her take-out box of beef with broccoli. The Joker reads the slip of paper aloud—“You will die alone and poorly dressed.” He scowls at the fortune cookie and chucks both fortune and cookie off the side of the roof before he reaches for the second cookie and pushes the third towards Batwoman. The Clown Prince of Crime’s second cookie reads “You have a curious smile and a mysterious nature.” The Joker apparently finds this fortune more acceptable, because he laughs and tucks the paper into his pocket before turning towards Batwoman.

The Dark Knight silently opens up her cookie and extracts the fortune. As she usually does, Batwoman eats half the cookie before reading her fortune aloud.

“Bats never roost alone.”

She flips the slip of paper over as she eats the other half of her cookie… her Chinese word is “name” ( 名称 – Míngchēng ) and her lucky numbers are 19, 21, 16, 5, 18, 13, 1 and 14.

“Ooo, planning on getting a batboy?” The Joker laughs, wrapping his arms around his side. “A batman to help out around the house? Or maybe a batdog to take a bite out of crime?”

The Joker actually rolls on the floor with laughter, knocking over a take-out box of rice neither of them had wanted and coming dangerously close to rolling off the roof. Batwoman remains silent as the Joker gets the laughter out… which seems to take an entire hour, although in reality only a few minutes pass. Soon enough the Joker allows Batwoman to handcuff him and take him back down to his cell.

When Batwoman finally manages to leave Arkham Asylum it’s almost two in the morning and, luckily, she has nothing she needs to do but go to bed… dealing with the Joker always tires her out, even if she just has to sit and eat Chinese food with the madman.

When the Tumbler arrives back at the Cave Batwoman assumes that Ace and Alfred are asleep, since neither dog nor butler is there to greet her when she steps out of her car. She quickly changes out of her armor and into the t-shirt and sweat pants which Alfred has left out for her and heads upstairs—intending to get a drink before heading off to bed.

She takes the stairs up, which deposit her at the door to the cave which is hidden behind a grandfather clock. As the secret door closes behind her and she starts walking towards the kitchen, Rachel hears a floorboard creak and notices something moving in the corner of her eye.

In one fluid motion Rachel Wayne turns, adopting a fighting stance as she hurls a batarang at the intruder, another batarang appearing in her fingers, ready to be thrown at a moment’s notice.

There is a flash of moonlight reflecting off what Rachel instantly identifies as a katana, and the sound of metal hitting metal. The batarang falls to the ground as a woman steps out of the shadows, into the dim light moonlight. She holds a katana in her right hand and has a small leather satchel slung over one shoulder. The woman wears the simple black clothing that members of the League of Shadows prefer—black pants, black long sleeved shirt with a high neck, black shoes and gloves. Around her neck is a black scarf, which can easily be pulled up to cover her face. In addition to the sheath for the katana, which is strapped to her back, she has a smaller knife attached to her belt. As Rachel watches the woman slowly re-sheaths her katana and adopts a passive stance—not actively waiting for a fight, but prepared to react.

The woman’s eyes, which seem to shine in the moonlight, are emerald green, brilliant in their simplicity. She has long dark hair which is swept up into a ponytail so it doesn’t get in her eyes. In the moonlight her hair appears black, but Rachel knows that it is actually a very dark brown. The woman looks exotic, but in a sort of generic way—there are a half-dozen different ethnicities that those looks could come from.

“Hello Talia.” Rachel sighs, the batarang in her fingers vanishing back into its hiding place. “What brings you to Gotham?”

Talia Al Ghul, the only living child of Ra’s Al Ghul, glares at Rachel Wayne. Without speaking she pulls the satchel off her shoulders and holds it out to the Billionaire. The Dark Knight takes one step forward and retrieves the satchel from Talia, before stepping away from the other woman.

“So now your Henri’s delivery girl?” Rachel remarks as she slides the satchel on to her own shoulder.

“I don’t run errands for _Henri_.” Talia growls, her hand twitching a little—it’s obvious to Rachel that Talia wants to draw her sword. “My father believes that I will understand his motivations if I observe you.”

“So how’s that going?” Rachel asks, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“I think you’re an idiot who isn’t worthy to be his _whore_.” Talia sneers. “You could never stand at Ra’s Al Ghul’s side, let alone be—”

“For once we agree.” Rachel cuts Talia off and, as the woman watches, she opens the satchel and reaches inside, pulling out a small stone statue and a red rose inside a protective plastic tube. The rose has a thin black ribbon tied around the stem in an elegent bow and the statue—which is no bigger than Rachel’s hand—has a small piece of read cloth tied around its neck. Rachel recognizes the statue instantly, but she still asks Talia, just to be sure. “This is a jizo statue, isn’t it?”

“Carve from a stone from the Monastery.” Talia notes, disapproval clear in her voice. “You’ve made him weak… I should kill you for that.”

Rachel glances at the so called “right hand woman” of the League of Shadows, noting several tiny little clues that Talia most likely isn’t aware of… once she comes to a deduction, she speaks, already knowing the impact her words will have on the other woman.

“Ra’s is still cross about Adriana, isn’t he?” Rachel smirks slightly as Talia growls at her, sounding like a rabid dog. _How would you understand Henri’s motivations, when you… you all but tossed her aside?_ Rachel thinks but doesn’t say. “You’re not welcome here Talia. Get off my property and get the hell out of my town.”

“ _Gladly_.” Talia growls. Rachel follows her through the dark hallways of Wayne Manor until they are at a door that leads outside, then she watches from the doorway as Talia Al Ghul makes her way away from the Manor and off the Wayne Estate. Once the daughter of Ra’s Al Ghul is gone, Rachel places the rose and the jizo statue on a countertop in the Manor’s kitchen and heads upstairs to her bedroom.

Ace is already asleep right in the center of her bed and he doesn’t wake up as Rachel lies down, not even when she scoots him over. He does cuddle up against her as the Dark Knight starts to drift off to sleep, the fortune cookie’s message appearing in her head as the world goes dark.

_Bats never roost alone._

_Name –_ _名称_ _– Míngchēng_

_Lucky numbers: 19 21 16 5 18 13 1 14_

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

When Rachel wakes up she has an idea. A really stupid, totally not in the plan, idea. An idea that, no matter what she does, refuses to just die, like stupid not in the plan ideas should. Her entire day quickly becomes devoted to arguing with herself… to get her mind to erase this idea like it has done with all the other stupid not in the plan ideas.

But no matter what she does, the idea refuses to die.

She even finds herself sitting in the kitchen, talking to Alfred about her stupid not in the plan idea while the two clean up the dishes from lunch, using the sink even though they have a dishwasher. Rachel dries while Alfred washes and he doesn’t help—instead her oldest friend, her all but _father_ , says that the idea isn’t stupid and while it’s not in the plan that doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be done.

She tries to explain to Alfred just why the idea needs to die—but he just laughs and counters all of her arguments. Eventually she retreat… well actually it’s more like _runs_ away, claiming that she needs to be alone.

She finds herself pulling on warm clothing and boots and stomping through the snow to the weeping willow on the west side of Wayne Manor. Once she reaches the snow covered tree, Rachel sits down on the stone bench, which Alfred has cleaned the snow off of. _Once again he knows me better then I know myself_. Rachel mentally sighs as she looks over at the trunk of the willow tree, where Alfred has placed the jizo statue. Her oldest friend has also brushed the snow off the marble slab and placed the rose that Henri sent on top of the slab, the black ribbon still tied to it’s stem.

Rachel sits on the snow bench and pulls her knees up against her chest, wrapping her arms around them as she shivers slightly. The Dark Knight of Gotham watches her breath turn into fog as she tries to convince herself not to make what could very easily end up being the worst mistake of her entire life. She presses her right hand against the scar on her side, remembers the sudden intense pain of the bullet… and she wonders if that is what _it_ would have felt like—if she hadn’t been so high on the Scarecrow’s fear toxin that she’d lost two days to terror and darkness. Sometimes she wishes that she’d been awake, or at least semi-aware when _it_ had happened… but mostly she is glad of the darkness that had swallowed her up.

When Rachel finally makes her way back to Wayne Manor Alfred is waiting for her, a cup of hot chocolate with mini-marshmallows floating on top and Ace sitting at his feet. The puppy barks happily when he sees his Master and goes bounding through the snow, which is about as deep as he is tall, to greet her.

“I made a decision.” Rachel informs Alfred as he hands her the mug.

“I trust that you’ve made the right one.” Alfred replies, bending down to dust some snow off of Ace before allowing the puppy inside.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

That night, when Batwoman finishes her patrol, she climbs up to the top of one of the tallest buildings in Gotham. (Not _the_ tallest, because that one is a real bitch to get on top of.) She settles down in a nook which will shelter her from wind and looks out at her beloved city. When she’d left the Cave and begun patrolling Gotham the night sky had been clear and practically overflowing with stars but now the sky is overcast and a very light snow is starting to fall.

Gotham is quiet. The snow and the cold seems to be discouraging a lot of criminals from leaving whatever warm place they can find to take shelter in and a significant number of the big names are still locked up in Arkham, probably waiting for warmer days and night.

Batwoman wonders if the Joker and Harley have finally made up, of if the Clown Prince of Crime is still pissed at Harley, who probably still thinks that Batwoman and Rachel Wayne are trying to steal her “Mr. J”. Given the choice the Dark Knight would rather fight the Joker alone... although she would take the Joker _and_ Harley as opposed to just Harley.

It doesn’t take long for the Dark Knight’s thoughts to turn to the Last Son of Krypton… a man who is the closest thing that Rachel Wayne and Batwoman have to an actual friend. (Besides Alfred… and the Holmes-Watson clan. They don’t count.) A man who wasn’t concerned with the fact that he didn’t know her identity—something that the League seemed to be obsessed with. (Although they did a pretty good job of hiding it.)

And, for some reason that Batwoman didn’t completely understand and couldn’t really explain, she actually _wanted_ to tell Clark her real name. Part of this desire was based on her… well her gut feeling that she could trust him—that she could trust him as much as she trusted anybody. Superman, after all, was an impossible thing—an alien who managed to be more human than most humans. A man who somehow saw through the mask of “Rachel Wayne – Gotham Billionaire” without looking far enough to see the Dark Knight inside of Gotham’s Princess.

Before she really can realize what she is doing, Rachel reaches up and activates the communications device hidden in her cowl.

“We’re going to have a guest tonight.”

“Very well Miss.” Alfred replies, his voice modified by several computer programs. “Shall I prepare refreshments for the two of you?”

“If you want.” The Dark Knight smiles as she jumps off the building, quickly descending to street level and making her way to the alley where she’s parked the Tumbler.

“I believe I have some chocolate chip cookies that are coming out of the oven soon. Those should do nicely—there were rather a few too many for just the two of us.” Alfred remarks and Rachel smiles at his response before she switches to a different channel—the one which connects to the Justice League’s communication system.

“Superman?” Although it’s _technically_ impossible her voice seems to echo over the communicator. Batwoman waits a few seconds, before calling out again. “Superman?”

This time she gets a muttered response… she guesses that the Man of Steel is talking in his sleep. She can only make out a few slurred words— “yes”, “please” and “more.” A smirk grows on her face and she resists the urge to laugh as she calls out once more, a little more forcibly this time. “Superman!”

“Wha…” The is a pause and a few muffled sounds, one of which _might_ be the sound of the Last Son of Krypton falling out of bed. After another few seconds Clark yawns, clears his throat and speaks. “Yes Batwoman?”

“Follow the Tumbler.” She instructs, taking off into the night, the Tumbler quickly picking up speed as it race through the streets of Gotham.

“I’m on my way.” Clark replies and the line goes dead.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Batwoman’s call had woken Superman up from a very deep sleep. In fact it had woken him from a… well a _very_ nice dream involving Rachel Wayne and Batwoman—well a Batwoman clad in a cape, cowl and nothing else. It wasn’t exactly the sort of dream that one really wanted to have right before they were summoned to a meeting with Gotham’s Dark Knight… especially when you have no idea why Batwoman has woken you up in the middle of the night and ordered you to fly to Gotham and follower her tank like car.

Despite being just woken up from a very nice ream, it takes less then a minute for Superman to reach Gotham and start searching the streets for the Tumbler… which isn’t hard to find. Clark assumes that the Tumbler was originally a Wayne Enterprises invention designed for the military that Rachel had spotted, painted black and presented to Batwoman… he has a sudden mental image of the Tumbler as a birthday present for the mysterious woman, complete with a big black bow on top. The image actually makes him giggle as he follows the black car, which heads out of the city.

Soon the Tumbler has left the main roads and is heading down a winding country road. It continues on once the pavement ends and approaches a cliff which faces a large waterfall… and the Tumbler doesn’t slow down as it approaches the sharp drop.

“Don’t worry.” Batwoman’s voice purrs in Clark’s ear, making him shiver slightly.

Then, instead of slowing down or suddenly coming to a stop, the Tumbler speeds up and, before Clark can do anything, sails off the cliff, across the gap and _through the waterfall_. Superman instantly follows the car, going through the pounding water and into what appears to be a tunnel carved out by an underground river. The river covers most of the floor of the tunnel, but the Tumbler has no issue driving through the shallow water. As Clark follows the car through the tunnel he can see several places where the ave has been modified to ease the passage of the large vehicle… there are also several small caves that branch off from the tunnel and inside those caves Superman can see thousands of bats.

After a short distance the tunnel connects with a much larger cave and the Tumbler comes to a stop on a smooth platform which sits on the edge of  a sharp cliff. The car’s door opens and Batwoman steps out before closing the door behind her.

Superman stops in midair and hovers as he looks around, realizing that this is Batwoman’s base, her… well _Batcave_. It had obviously once been a naturally occurring cave and in a few pieces in the ceiling Superman can see what looks like the foundations of a house. The original cave has clearly been modified, been expanded in certain areas, the river diverted slightly and the floor flattened out. Lighting has also been added, although vast sections of the cave are still dark and gloomy, and Clark can’t see the bottom of the large chasm over which about half of the Tumbler’s platform hangs.

A short distance from the Tumbler there is a large computer, with big monitor taller than Clark and several smaller, normal computer monitors, what looks like two keyboards and dozens of blinking lights and technological bits. There is a table near the computer with several stacks of paper and a coffee cup full of pens. In a sort of alcove near the computer terminal a small lab has been set up along with a table that appears to be where Batwoman makes her batarangs. Between that alcove and the computer is a hallway that, when Clark peeks with x-ray vision, seems to lead to a sort of changing room, with cabinets for the Dark Knight’s suit and a shower.

Further along the wall, past the door to the changing room and the lab is a space where a smaller cave probably once branched off. The entrance to this smaller cave has been widened and the space appears to have been turned into a sort of small museum / large trophy case. Superman can see a penny larger then a car and a katana that leans against a mannequin wearing ragged black clothing. On the opposite side of the computer there is what Clark assumes is an elevator door and next to that a staircase begins, which vanishes into the darkness. As Superman looks around Batwoman walks over to her computer and types something on the keyboard.

“This place is amazing!” Clark smiles as he lands next to Batwoman. “I’ll have to show you around my Fortress of Solitude some time…”

“Welcome to the Batcave.” Batwoman says with a smile.

“Seriously? That’s what you call it?” Superman laughs, only to frown as he notices that the Dark Knight’s smile seems somewhat forced, one of her hands is toying with her cape and she’s shifting nervously. “What’s wrong?”

“I…” Batwoman laughs and suddenly seems a lot more comfortable. “I decided that I’m ready.”

Before Clark can ask the Dark Knight what she means, Batwoman reaches up and removes her cowl, which she places on the metal desk next to her computer. In stunned silence Superman stares at Batwoman— at first he can’t put the pieces together, he can’t see the forest for the trees. Clark finds himself unable to see the whole because of all the little parts of her that she’s never seen before.

Batwoman’s eyes, which he’d been able to see beneath her cowl since she couldn’t cover her eyes with lead, are a warm brown. But without the cowl framing them her eyes look… well different. Softer, warmer —but also a great deal sadder, as if there is some dark secret lurking behind her eyes.

The next thing that Clark is able to process is Batwoman’s ahir—which had always been hidden underneath her cowl. He’d never really thought about what color it might be, so he isn’t exactly surprised to find that it is jet black—slightly damp and messed up from being confined in her cowl—and it has the slightest bit of a curl to it.

Batwoman’s lips twist up in a sort of half smile, half smirk and it is only at that point that Superman actually sees Batwoman’s whole face. He gasps softly as he suddenly realizes that he has seen this face before and that he knows the name of the woman underneath the cowl and cape.

“Rachel Wayne.” Clark’s voice seems impossibly, embarrassingly loud in the silence of the cave. He watches in shock as Rachel’s smirk turns into a real smile and she seems to be suppressing laughter.

“Clark Kent.” She replies.

“Why?” Clark stutters, before realizing that he needs to make his question more specific. “Why tell me? Why now?”

“You were concerned—not just for Batwoman, but for Rachel Wayne as well.” Rachel explains, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Besides… you’re the closest thing I have to a friend.”

“Batwo—” Clark cuts himself off and shakes his head slightly. He can’t call her that, not when she’s just let him in on her greatest secret. “ _Rachel_ — you are my friend and… well it’s nice to meet you Rachel Wayne.”

As he says this the Last Son of Krypton offers his hand to the Billionaire crime fighter, who instantly grabs it and gives Clark a surprisingly strong handshake.

“It’s nice to meet you Clark Kent.” Rachel replies, her eyes lighting up as she smiles.

The two heroes stand still and silent, their hands clasped together—the near silence of the cave, broken only by the steady sound of dripping water and the dusty noise of the resident bats, rises up and surrounds them. Rachel’s hand is warm in his and Clark finds himself listening to her heartbeat—committing it to memory, learning it’s sound so that he’ll be able to find it no matter where he is in the world.

The comfortable silence is suddenly broken by the sound of the elevator that Clark saw earlier descending. Rachel releases Clark’s hand and turns slightly so that she can see the elevator, whose doors open to reveal Alfred Pennyworth—who is holding a silver tray with two mugs of hot chocolate and a plate of chocolate chip cookies.

“Good evening Miss Wayne. How was patrol?” Alfred inquirers as she places the tray on a clear spot on the computer desk. “Whenever she stitches herself up she makes a dreadful mess.” The Wayne family butler informs Superman.

“But at least I learn from my mistakes.” Rachel counters with a smile as she swipes one of the mugs and a cookie. “No injuries this time Alfred… it looks like all the crooks went south for the winter.”

“Welcome to the Batcave Mr. Kent.” Alfred smiles as he holds out the remaining mug for Superman, who takes it and awkwardly stammers out a thank you  before smiling at the mini-marshmallows floating on top of his hot chocolate.

“I hope you’ll forgive me, but I stopped trying to hide anything from Alfred a long time ago… it’s better for my health.” Rachel explains.

“He keeps your secret so I’ll trust him with mine.” Clark says with a shrug. It’s obvious to anyone who looks that Alfred truly cares for the young woman he helped raise, so it doesn’t bother Clark, although he knows it probably should.

Alfred smiles at Clark before he turns back to face Rachel. “You have a meeting with Mr. Fox tomorrow at eleven. I suggest you at least _attempt_ to get a six hours of sleep tonight.”

“I’ll try Alfred.” Rachel smirks as she finishes off her first cookie and reaches for another, her hand happening to brush against Clark as he moves to get his first cookie. The Butler nods silently to Batwoman and then to Superman before heading back towards the elevator.

“So… what happens now?” Clark asks before taking a bite out of cookie.

“We continue as we have before—only now you know what’s beneath the cowl.” Rachel replies. “I’ll fiddle with the Cave’s alarm system so that you won’t set off the alarms… although I’d still appreciate some advanced warning.”

“I won’t tell the League.” Clark assures her.

“I didn’t think you would.” Rachel smirks as she finishes her hot chocolate. “Isn’t that the deal you guys have? Tell one and you don’t have to tell everyone?”

“I mean, I won’t tell them that I know.” Superman explains. “Just… promise me—promise me you’ll call if there’s anything I can do to help.”

“You’re the first number on my speed dial.” Rachel smirks. “Well… actually the second—Alfred’s the first.”

Superman smiles and places his mug on the serving tray and, nodding goodbye to Rachel, he takes to the sky, easily finding his way out of the cave and into the night sky.

He stops and hovers, turning to look down at Wayne Manor. Superman laughs softly as he realizes how easy it would have been for him to discover Rachel’s secret… if only he’d had a reason to look beneath the surface, if he’d ever suspected that Rachel wasn’t just Batwoman’s financial backer, but Batwoman herself.

 

When Clark Kent gets back to Metropolis his phone beeps as he changes out of his cape and tights and a text message appears on his screen.

**You sure you don’t want to be my kept boy?**

**-Rachel**

 

Clark laughs and is about to compose a reply when his brain catches up with the events of the night. He almost drops his phone as a strange mix of relief, despair and some third emotion that he can’t quite put his finger on sweeps over him.

Rachel Wayne and Batwoman are the same person.

Rachel Wayne and Batwoman—the two women that Clark has been having rather _interesting_ dreams of, are _the same person_.

Batwoman is the beautiful young woman who danced with him and had asked him—three times now—to become her kept man. Rachel Wayne is the same hero who is willing to do anything necessary to fight evil. Batwoman is the girl in the fancy dress who kneed the Joker in the balls and whom Superman snatched out of the sky. Rachel Wayne is the same masked crime fighter who seems to want to protect Superman—the man who you wouldn’t think needs protecting.

Rachel Wayne and Batwoman are the same person.

So instead of two beautiful strong women who are utterly captivating, Clark Kent now finds himself forced to admit that this is the woman—the amazing, beautiful, smart, strong woman… that Clark Kent is falling in love with.

At first Clark doesn’t know how to respond to Rachel’s text… but after thinking about it for a few seconds the Last Son of Krypton decides to just go with the same answer he has used the last two times that Rachel has asked him that same question.

**I’m flattered, but I already have a nice job.**

**-CK**

 

_(Author's Note: My friend,[](http://attalander.livejournal.com/profile)[ **attalander**](http://attalander.livejournal.com/) , wrote a erotic fan-fiction addition which happens during this chapter. It is called **Scilicet Addendum: Aegris Somnia** and can be found [here on her livejournal](http://attalander.livejournal.com/10505.html).)_


	26. Eram Quod Es, Eris Quod Sum

**_Eram Quod Es, Eris Quod Sum = Latin for “I Was What You Are, You Will Be What I Am”_ **

 

Isabella Cygné is one of those women whose age is almost impossible to guess due to the fact that she’d started getting plastic surgery at an age where most women are buying their first bras. Isabella was the last of the Gotham Cygnés, although there were apparently a few branches of the family tree still residing in France and at least one in England. She’d never been married or even engaged, instead she went through younger lovers with the same regularity that most people went through toothbrushes.

Attending Isabella’s 29th birthday party is quickly becoming a yearly tradition—this is the fourth time that Isabella has celebrated turning 29 and the second time (although not the second time in a row) that her birthday has fallen on the 19th of February.

The largest ballroom in Gotham, the one that is usually used for the Policemen’s Ball, has been converted into a strange mix of a Las Vegas casino and a circus tent. Around the edges of the room tables for blackjack, roulette, craps and poker have been set up along with tables of drinks and snacks. Wandering through the crowd are several magicians and jugglers, while two scantily clad contortionists perform on small pedestals in the center of the dance floor.

Rachel pauses at the entrance for a second, scanning the crowd and quickly attaching names to faces. It takes less than a second for her to sort the guests into two categories: those she can avoid and those whose existence she has to acknowledge. Once she’s done this Rachel starts making her way through the crowd to a nearby blackjack table… she’s the only woman at the table, and her garnet red dress stands in stark contrast to the men’s formal black suits. Most of the female guests are watching the wandering magicians and jugglers, with the few that are interested in gambling focusing on the roulette wheel and the craps table.

The table that Rachel chooses to sit at has three men, all staring intensely at their cards. Only the dealer seems to notice Rachel’s arrival, and he silently deals out cards to her as she smoothes out her dress absentmindedly. She’d taken a chance and chosen a dress more suited to warm summer days than the freezing winter nights that Gotham was currently in the grips of. The dress is chiffon, sleeveless and held up by straps made of black ribbon. The garnet red fabric is drawn tightly above her upper body but, underneath a wide black belt, it flows free to the floor where simple black leather sandals peek out from the fabric’s folds. Small silver hoops and the pendant that Henri gave her complete the outfit. While Rachel isn’t carrying a purse she does, unbeknownst to anyone but herself and Alfred, have several hidden batarangs… just in case.

 

After a little less than an hour Rachel has managed to amass a small pile of chips and, unfortunately, attracted the attention of one of Isabella Cygné’s cousins, a young man who is clearly pretending to have a deeper French accent then he really does. _Probably thinks I’ll find it “exotic”_. Rachel sighs as the man leans in to whisper in her ear and seizes the opportunity to ogle her cleavage. The Wayne Heiress shifts slightly and “accidently” elbows the man in the groin as she stands up, intending to head over to one of the refreshment tables.

The dance floor has been mostly cleared, and the pedestals the contortionists were performing on have been removed. In their place a group of fire dancers are now performing—a young shirtless man swings around flaming poi while his female partner watches from the sidelines with a fire extinguisher and the rest of their equipment. Rachel stops to watch and scans the crowd as the man extinguishes his flaming poi and the woman steps forward with a whip—Isabella Cygné is almost directly opposite Rachel. The birthday girl appears to be quite drunk and is hanging a man who Rachel guesses is Isabella’s newest boytoy. When the female fire dancer lights up her whip and Isabella squeals in excitement, sounding unpleasantly like a pig that’s just been punched. When the fire dancer cracks her whip, creaking an impressive fireball, even Rachel finds herself jumping a little and applauding widely as the two fire dancers bow. As the two fire dancers start to remove their equipment the ringmaster steps forward and starts to speak, his arms spread wide and a smile on his face.

“Ladies and Gentlemen! Haley’s Circus is proud to present the most amazing, the most spectacular and the most astounding trapeze act in the world—the Flying Graysons!”

The high ceiling of the ballroom is suddenly lit up, revealing a flying trapeze and a safety net. On a small platform at the top of a ladder three people stand—a woman, a man and a young boy who can’t be more then twelve years old. The three wear matching leotards—green leggings and red tops with strips of gold that look vaguely like wings on their chests.

“Marry, Jonathan and the youngest Flying Grayson, their son—Richard!” With each name spoken one of the members of the family takes a bow as the crowd below applauds and moves towards the edges of the room to get a better view. When the Flying Graysons being their routine even Rachel Wayne—who spends her nights running on rooftops and then jumping off those rooftops without a safety net—finds herself impressed and standing in awed silence near the ladder that he Graysons must have climbed up prior to their act.

She’s especially impressed with Richard Graysons—the young boy manages to make the whole thing look effortless, like he’s actually flying through the air and not just falling with style.

Rachel Wayne actually finds herself smiling broadly as the boy lands back on the platform after a particularly amazing leap and waves to the crowd below, a huge smile on his face. As Richard hugs his mother the ringmaster steps forward once more.

“Ladies and Gentlemen—tonight, for your viewing pleasure, the Flying Graysons will perform their most death-defying stunts….” The ringmaster pauses as Richard Grayson steps away from his mother and grabs on to a rope hanging next to the platform. He gracefully descends, spinning around and around in an controlled drop that Rachel really wants to try out for herself—it’s way too artistic and impractical for Batwoman, but damn it, it looks _fun_.

When Richard reaches the level of the safety net he unties one side with exaggerated motions, drawing a gasp from several members of the crowd below as the rest of the net is pulled. Once the net is united he continues to drop down, swinging around and around on the rope until he reaches the ground.

“Marry and Jonathan Grayson shall perform without the aid of a net!”

As the audience gasps Richard Grayson makes his way through he crowd, passing by Rachel as he looks up at his parents, who have started their act and are already flying gracefully through the air… and then Rachel hears a sound—a soft, tiny little sound made painfully loud by the awed silence of the crowd and impossibly harsh because Rachel knows what that sound is. Rachel’s blood runs cold as she realizes that is the sound of the ropes snapping. Mary Grayson screams as she and her husband start to fall towards the hard ground below.

For a moment there is complete and utter silence in the ballroom… then, as if someone had pushed the play button on a video, everyone reacts. Some of the guests move away from the spot where the two have fallen, some cover their eyes, other’s scream or simply sob quietly. Richard Grayson—who had remained on the ground to watch his parent’s performance, starts to run towards them.

Rachel knows that the fall was too high, the ground too hard. She knows that Mary and Jonathan Grayson are either dead or dying and she’s seen the bodies of people who have died in this way before… what’s more, she knows what it’s like to see the bodies of your parents. So Rachel does what she wishes someone had done for her when her parents were murdered—she grabs Richard Grayson and pulls him into a tight hug. She keeps him from seeing his parents’ bodies lying lifeless on the ground. Rachel is prepared for Richard to struggle, to scream at her and try to escape her hold so that he can run to his parents… but instead the tiny boy just breaks.

For a second Richard stands stock still in Rachel’s arms, shivering slightly. Then he sags against her, his legs no long supporting his weight as his arms wrap around her waist. He sobs and his entire body shakes as Rachel sinks to the ground, Richard ending up practically sitting in her lap. Rachel wishes she could say something, that she had some magical words which would make everything alright… but she knew there were no words. _He’s lost the center of his world. His life is never going to be the same. Even I don’t know any words that’ll help him right now._

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

By the time the Police arrive and cover up his parents’ bodies Richard Grayson has run out of tears… but even when he falls silent the small boy doesn’t try to move out of Rachel’s embrace. Rachel shifts slightly and looks down, thinking that maybe Richard has fallen asleep, only to find a set of big blue eyes staring up at her.

“It had to be that guy…” Richard whispers, one hand clutching at the fabric of Rachel’s dress. “He threatened Mr. Haley! I saw him—I tried to tell dad but…”

Rachel hugs Richard a little tighter as he falls silent, his eyes darting over to the white sheet that covers his parents’ bodies.

“The police will find him.” Rachel whispers. “And if they don’t then Batwoman will.”

 _I couldn’t stop Joe Chill… but I can make sure that whoever did this **rots** in a cell at Blackgate for the rest of his natural life. Batwoman will bring him in, Rachel Wayne’s lawyers will make sure he stays there and I bet if I ask really nicely then Clark will throw the key into the sun. _ Rachel can almost feel Batwoman in the back of her head, pacing back and forth, longing to be out on the streets of Gotham so that she can dangle crooks off rooftops until they tell her everything she wants to know. _Richard saw the man—as did ‘Mr. Haley’. They should be able to give us a good enough description to find the scumbag._

Before Rachel can start to figure out a way to question Richard without making him too suspicious she realizes that Commissioner Gordon is kneeling down next to her. Jim smiles softly at Richard before he speaks.

“And Batwoman can find anyone.” Gordon tells Richard, who stares at the Commissioner for a second before he sees Gordon’s badge, which is attached to his shirt pocket.

“He wanted money and Mr. Haley said no.” Richard whispers, his voice only just loud enough for Gordon to hear. “I saw him before the show. I… I should have done something! I knew he wasn’t supposed—”

Rachel gently rubs Richard’s back as he sniffles softly, probably too worn out to actually cry. She glances over at Gordon, who is scribbling something in his notepad.

“If you saw him again, would you recognize him?” Gordon asks and Richard nods.

“He… he said his name was Tony—Tony Zucco.”

Both Rachel Wayne and Commissioner Gordon recognize the name. Tony Zucco—short for Anthony—was a low level thug trying to make a name for himself by creating an extortion ring. Creating such a ring wasn’t very easy in Gotham, since you had the Mob and the various part-time residents of Arkham claiming vast areas of the city for themselves… it would make sense that Zucco would go after a circus—they’d be in town just long enough to get money from, but not long enough to attract the attention of the Mob.

Rachel helps Richard to stand and a female police officer—who must be new because Batwoman doesn’t know her name—escorts the boy over to where the rest of the circus members are standing. The men and women quickly surround Richard, hiding him from Rachel’s gaze.

Slowly the billionaire stands up and wraps her arms around herself, remembering the first time that she met Jim Gordon—in Gotham Police Headquarters after her parents were murdered. She can still remember the weight of her father’s coat, how the future Commissioner, then just an officer, had draped it over her shoulders. It was almost like she could feel Jim Gordon cupping her cheek and could hear his whispered words— _It’s okay_.

“Miss Wayne…” Gordon sighs. “That—that was a good thing you did.”

“I couldn’t let him…” Rachel sighs, one hand rising to pinch the bridge of her nose. “What—what’s going to happen to him? Does he have anyone?”

“No.” Jim replies, glancing over at the circle of circus performers that still surrounds Richard. “I’m afraid that Zucco will… well he’s a material witness. I’ll have an officer here tonight, but I’ll probably have to find a safe house.”

 _…this is probably a really, really stupid idea._ Rachel thinks, shivering slightly although she isn’t actually cold. _But if I offer then Jim will probably say no… so I might at least offer and be rejected._

“I might be able to help.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

That is how Rachel Wayne finds herself sitting in the back of her car with Richard Grayson as Alfred drives them back to Wayne Manor. The boy is still wearing his leotard, although he now has a jacket pulled tightly around him. Rachel suspects it was his father’s—it’s big on him and he’s folded the sleeves back so that his hands aren’t hidden inside them. A small suitcase with a few changes of clothing sits by his feet—Rachel suspects that Alfred has already arranged for the Grayson’s trailer to be packed up and/or stored somewhere.

“Why are you doing this?” Richard asks as soon as the car starts. Rachel hadn’t taken the limo to Isabella Cygné’s party, so the two of them are sitting in the back seat of a sedan, side by side, their hands almost touching as they rest on the seat between them.

“My parents were killed when I was eight years old.” Rachel explains, glancing at the young boy out of the corner of her eye. “When Commissioner Gordon told me that you didn’t have anywhere to go—well I’ve got a lot of spare rooms.”

“Did they catch…” Richard trails off, his head turning slightly so he can look out the window.

“They caught him… and they’ll catch Zucco.”

The two are silent for several minutes, each staring out the window on their side of the car, gazing out at Gotham but not really seeing what they were looking at.

“Do you still miss them?” Richard asks. Rachel slowly turns away from the window and finds herself focusing on the back of Alfred’s head.

“Every day.” She admits, not lying although part of her wants to. “It doesn’t really get easier—it just sort of fades. You just—just have to take it one day at a time. Sometimes you scream, sometimes you cry and… sometimes you find that it—it just hurts a little less.”

Rachel jumps a little as Richard tentatively places his hand on top of her’s. She glances down at their hands for a second, before smiling at her temporary ward and moving so that she is loosely holding Richard’s hand.

“Thank you Miss. Wayne.”

“Rachel.” She offers without thinking, gently squeezing his hand.

“Dick.” He replies, squeezing her hand back.

The two don’t speak for the rest of the ride back to Wayne Manor… by the time that Alfred slows the car to a stop in front of the Manor Dick Grayson is asleep and leaning on Rachel’s shoulder. It’s easy for Rachel to pick up Dick and carry him through the Manor, Alfred walking with her and opening doors for his employer.

Dick wakes up as they step into a bedroom across from Rachel’s. He rubs his eyes as Rachel sets him down and Alfred places his bag on the end of the bed. A smile grows on Rachel’s face as she watches Dick glance around in awe at the room.

“Bathroom’s through there, and I’m just across the hall.” Rachel explains as Alfred silently slips away from the young woman and the boy. “If you need anything you can come get me…”

Rachel is cut off by the door to Dick’s temporary room, which Alfred had left slightly open, opening a bit more as Ace pushes it in order to get inside. Once he forces the door open enough to slip inside the puppy races over to Dick, where he seems to stare at the boy for a second before moving to sniff at his scuffed sneakers.

Dick bends down and hesitantly offers his hand to Ace, who sniffs it for a few seconds, glances back at Rachel and then licks the tips of Dick’s fingers.

“That’s Ace.” Rachel smiles as Dick slowly starts to pet the Great Dane puppy. “He’s friendly, and if you help him on the bed he’ll be happy to snuggle with you… if not, just push him into the hallway and he’ll come sleep with me.”

“He—I don’t mind.” Dick stutters, as Ace playfully nibbles on the edge of his jacket.

“Goodnight Dick.”

“Goodnight Mi—goodnight Rachel.”

Alfred has left the hall light on and Rachel leaves the door to her room open… just in case. It was too late to go out as Batwoman, especially when there was a scared little boy just across the hall who just might knock on her door in the middle of the night—but no matter what happens, tomorrow night Batwoman is going to start chasing Tony Zucco and the Dark Knight isn’t going to stop until he is rotting in prison for what he’d done to Dick Grayson.

 

_ Author's Note: [Rachel's dress](http://purple-bell.tumblr.com/post/10722298321/fashion-illustration-by-inslee-clipped-to). (Although here's is [this color](http://rjweetman.com/slings/photogallery/Fabric%20photos/garnet%20red%20twill.jpg) with black straps and belt.) This is [a fire whip](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0JjprYD2Yhw). I've actually seen a fire whip in person--the crack is terrifyingly loud and unexpected even when you know it's coming. _


	27. Perfer Et Obdura; Dolor Hic Tibi Proderit Olim

**_ Perfer Et Obdura; Dolor Hic Tibi Proderit Olim = Latin for “Be Patient And Tough; Some Day This Pain Will Be Useful To You.” _ **

 

Alfred Pennyworth is not surprised when he finds Rachel Wayne and Dick Grayson’s beds empty. After all, Alfred was the one who had sat in the Wayne Library with an eight year old Rachel Wayne in his arms the night her parents died. He’d read the little girl all of her favorite books and make frequent trips for hot chocolate until Rachel had fallen asleep in his arms.

Despite the size of Wayne Manor it doesn’t take Alfred long to find his employer and her young ward—while Dick Grayson may, officially, only be staying at Wayne Manor until Tony Zucco is located, Alfred has a feeling that Rachel will at the very least offer Dick the chance to stay. The two are in Rachel’s study, curled up on the couch under a two knitted blankets. The television in front of them is playing the menu for _The Complete Gray Ghost_. Rachel is mostly sitting upright, although she has curled slightly to the left to rest her head on the back of the couch. Dick Grayson is on Rachel’s left side, his head resting in her lap and one arm wrapped around Ace, who is sleeping against Dick’s chest. Rachel’s right hand rest just to the side of Dick’s head, as if she’d been running her fingers through his hair when she fell asleep.

As soon as Alfred steps into the room both Rachel and Ace’s eyes snap open. The young woman tenses slightly before she realizes that the intruder she’d sensed is her oldest friend.

“Good morning miss.” Alfred smiles as he moves further into the room.

“Morning Alfred.” Rachel replies as she looks down at Dick, who is slowly starting to wake up. As the boy shifts Ace yawns and stands up, hopping off the couch and heading over to Alfred as Dick unconsciously moves even closer to Rachel before he opens his eyes.

“Hi.” He whispers, his voice so soft that Alfred almost doesn’t hear him.

“Hi.” Rachel whispers right back, a gentle smile on her face as Dick slowly pulls himself upright, supporting himself with one hand which rests on Rachel’s leg.

“What would you like for breakfast Master Grayson?” Alfred inquires as Ace rubs himself against the butler’s feet like he’s a cat before looking up at the man—as if he thinks that the Wayne Family butler can just make a bowl of dog food appear out of thin air.

“Um…” Dick looks over at Alfred in sleepy confusion. “Pancakes?”

“Good choice.” Rachel replies, giving Dick a gentle push so that he stands up, allowing her to do the same. “Come on, let’s help Alfred make them.”

Alfred leads the way towards the Manor’s kitchen, Ace racing in front of his humans… and occasionally going down the wrong hallway whenever he guesses incorrectly where they are heading. When he starts going the wrong way Rachel whistles and the dog skids to a stop—he hasn’t quite learned how to stop himself quickly on a slightly slippery floor and races back to the billionaire’s side.

When they reach the kitchen Ace dramatically flops down in front of his food and water bowl, his tail wagging furiously as Rachel fills up both bowls. The second that she’s places the full food bowl on the ground Ace pounces on the food. As Rachel does this Alfred starts getting out the various supplies he needs to make pancakes… Dick looks around at the kitchen with wide eyes as Alfred pulls a stool out and places it next to him and Rachel starts making a pot of coffee.

“This place is bigger than our trailer.” Dick whispers as he steps up on the stool so that he is standing next to Alfred.

“It was designed to be able to feed a large family, their servants and their guests.” Rachel replies. “It got a fair amount of use when my parents were alive—they’d throw parties and the kitchen would be full of cooks and waiters hired for the event.”

“You don’t throw parties?” Dick asks as Alfred passes him a whisk and shows him how to mix up the dry ingredients. As the two men work on the pancakes Rachel gets out the maple syrup and butter and starts to set the table in the kitchen nook.

“Not really.” Rachel shrugs as Alfred starts to add the liquids to the dry ingredients. “I’ve had a few—but I prefer to go out to other people’s parties and then come home and have my own space. Also that way there’s less for Alfred to clean up.”

“You clean up all of this by yourself?” Dick asks as Alfred starts to actually cook the pancakes.

“Mostly it’s just dusting.” Alfred replies as he flips over the first set of pancakes. “Miss Wayne usually cleans up after herself.”

“That’s what happens when you’re raised by a butler.” Rachel jokes, leaning against a counter as she sips at her coffee and Ace paws at her leg, whimpering pitifully. “No Ace, pancakes aren’t for puppies… and don’t even think about trying to get Dick to give you any.”

Dick giggles as Ace immediately turns away from Rachel and heads over to sit on the floor next to Dick’s stool. The small dog looks up at the nearest addition to Wayne Manor and gives the newest addition to Wayne Manor a hopeful glance. Dick looks up and over at Rachel who rolls her eyes theatrically.

“You’re the first person—other than me and Alfred—who he’s really interacted with.” Rachel explains as Dick sits down on the stool and pets Ace as Alfred finishes preparing the pancakes.

“Is he going to get big?” Dick asks.

“Yes. We’re pretty sure he’s a Great Dane, so he’ll get pretty big pretty quick and pretty soon.” Rachel replies. “He’ll probably be over two and half feet tall when he’s full grown… but Alfred thinks he might be a Great Dane mix, so he might be a little smaller.”

Ace wiggles happily as Dick pets him and after a few seconds he flops over on one side and rolls on to his back, so that Dick can rub his belly. Rachel smiles as she takes the plate of pancakes which Alfred has cooked and places them on the table in the kitchen nook as Alfred tidies up. When the Butler moves over to the nook Dick hops off his stool and follows him, hesitating for a second before slowly sliding into the kitchen nook booth on the same side that Rachel is already sitting on. Alfred sits down across from the two and Ace goes under the table and waits for some scraps to fall.

The three eat in silence, a silence which is only broken by a single triumphant bark from Ace when he manages to acquire a silver of pancake, which he immediately starts to noisily devour under the table, as Dick watches him. When the three have finished consuming their breakfast Rachel moves to help Alfred with the dishes, but the butler suggests that perhaps Dick would like to see the grounds and that this could serve as Ace’s morning walk.

So the two orphans find themselves walking through the gardens of Wayne Manor with Ace switching between walking beside them, in front of them and running all around them as he chases scents and barks at squirrels. Rachel doesn’t realize that their somewhat random wanderings through the gardens and over the grounds of Wayne Manor have brought the two of them to her parents’ graves until Dick breaks the silence.

“Are those….” He trails off as he looks over at Rachel.

“Yes.” Rachel replies as she comes to a stop in front of the two graves. “Those are my parents.”

The gravestones are simple—each one is but a plain rectangular stone with a rounded top. Inscribed upon the stones are their names, birth and death dates and the simple inscription of “Beloved Mother” and “Beloved Father”. In between the two graves stands a life-sized statue of an angel, clad in flowing robes, with long hair which seems to have been blown about by a strong wind. Her eyes are almost completely closed in grief, while her wings and arms around outstretched, her hands turned so that the palms are facing down to the two gravestones, while her wings are slightly curled, as if she is attempting to protect the graves from a fierce wind.

“How did you…” Dick pauses as he searches for the right word. “How did you deal with it?”

“I didn’t.” Rachel replies, not quite thinking as she reaches out and settles an arm around Dick’s shoulders, which are shaking slightly as the boy shivers. “At least, not in the right way. I started to blame myself and… well I never really stopped. I kept think—I was eight years old, we’d gone to an opera. I was scared and so we left early. We walked out into an alley, a man tried to rob us and my parents were killed. I kept thinking that if I hadn’t been scared then this…” She gestures at the graves in front of them. “Never would have happened.”

“What changed?” Dick asks, shifting slightly so that he’s leaning against Rachel as the two of them stare at her parents’ graves.

_ You’re parents death was not your fault. _ Henri’s words echo through Rachel’s mind. She has to bit her lip to resist the urge to flinch slightly as he remembers his explanation for who had been responsible— _It was your father’s… Anger does not change the fact that your father failed to act—_ was an explanation that Rachel would **never** accept.

“I met someone.” Rachel sighs, squeezing Dick’s shoulder slightly. “Someone I respected, someone who I thought had all the answers I was looking for. When he told me that it wasn’t my fault I didn’t really believe him, but it let me look beyond my own pain and grief. I’m still trying to undo the damage that I did to myself.”

“I hate him.” Dick whispers, tears rolling down his cheeks. “I hate him!”

“You’ve got every right to hate him.” Rachel replies, kneeling down so that she and Dick are on the same level. “Dick, I promise that he will pay for everything that he’s done.”

Rachel wraps her arms around Dick Grayson and pulls him into a tight embrace, which the little boy instantly returns. Rachel holds him tightly as Dick’s tears drench her shirt and the boy breaks down in her arms.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Rachel didn’t have that much planned for the day, but when Rachel and Dick returned to the Manor she finds that Alfred has already rescheduled what little she’d planned and had even created a reason for her to leave the Manor so that Batwoman can start tracking down Tony Zucco—a meeting at Wayne Industries with Lucius Fox. So Rachel spends the rest of the day showing Dick around Wayne Manor and doing her best to keep the little boy from sinking into the same depression which had consumed her childhood… the billionaire hopes that her experiences will help her deal with the sadness and guilt that Dick will probably feel.

After eating dinner with Alfred and Dick Rachel makes her excuses and heads down to the Batcave. She quickly reads and replies to the email from Gordon informing her of the Grayson’s death, reviews the most recent police bulletins and checks in the with the Justice League. Once she’s got her home base business out of the way she changes into her suit, climbs into Tumbler and heads out into the night.

_ I won’t let Dick carry the burden I did.  _ Batwoman swears to herself as the Tumbler bursts through the waterfall and starts heading towards downtown Gotham. _I won’t let him be consumed by the anger and the need for vengeance that consumed me… I will make sure that Tony Zucco will pay for what he did to that sweet, innocent little boy. I’ll make sure that he rots in the darkest corner of the nastiest prison I can send him to._

There are very few things in life about which anyone can be certain. Benjamin Franklin once said that the only two things that one can be certain of are death and taxes… however for a criminal whose actions have recently brought him a lot of unwanted attention—small adorable orphaned children always make the front page—there are a few things which one can be certain of. The criminal’s first thoughts usually focuses on getting out of town… but Zucco is the sort of criminal who would have trouble starting over, the sort of man who thinks the Grayson murder will make him a big name in Gotham. So it’s very likely that Zucco is still in Gotham and lying low in an attempt to escape the cops. Because of this there are two places he will certainly go—his favorite bar and his favorite working girl.

So as soon as she reaches downtown Gotham Batwoman heads towards the Bowery and it’s resident prostitutes. It take a little legwork, but eventually she finds a girl who remembers a client who both matched Zucco’s appearance and even called himself Tony. The girl points the Dark Knight towards a bar called the Basement Room, which doesn’t have a liquor license and where entry requires a password. When the man at the door asks for that password Batwoman simple kicks the door down and walks in at the same time that she throws down a few smoke pellets. None of the patrons even attempt to fight back—the presence of the Dark Knight is enough to get them to tell her everything that she wants to know.

Anthony “Tony” Zucco is the nephew of Arnold Stromwell, a reasonably well known and respected member of the Riley Crime Family. Apparently Stromwell’s half sister, who he’d been very fond of, had married someone who Stromwell didn’t care for and who had abandoned his wife when Tony was five. Tony’s mother had died a few years later and since then Stromwell had provided for Zucco—but he’d never provided that much or given the boy any chances to advance within the Riley Family. This had led Zucco to breaking away from the Family and creating his own protection ring… which had lead to the murder of the Graysons.

Batwoman’s next stop is the luxurious downtown apartment that Arnold Stromwell calls home… unfortunately Zucco isn’t hiding out with his Uncle. When Batwoman steps out of the darkness to stand at Stromwell’s side, the man does a fairly decent job of looking like he’s calm and collected.

“I suppose you’re here for Anthony.” Stromwell doesn’t look at the Dark Knight as he speaks. “I didn’t know he was going after the circus. I would have boxed his ears if I had—kids are bad for business, people see a little face covered in tears and they start acting up.”

“Where is he?” Batwoman hisses.

“I don’t know.” Stromwell stammers. “I disowned the bastard, had my men kick him out. If he’s smart he’ll get out of Gotham, but he’s too much like that crazy old man of his—”

“What aren’t you telling me?” The Dark Knight growls, leaning forward ever so slightly.

“Christopher—Tony’s father—he killed a cop.” Arnold Stromwell informs her, his voice shaking slightly as he speaks.

“And then he left Gotham. Died in Chicago three years later.”

“Not before he shot the witnesses—cop’s wife and kid.” Arnold whispers and Batwoman’s blood runs cold.

_ He left town—but only after he shot the witnesses.  _ Tony Zucco wasn’t planning on staying in Gotham. _He shot the witnesses._ He was just tying up all the loose ends before leaving. _**Oh God—Dick!**_

The Dark Knight doesn’t even bother to hide her exit. Instead of her usual trick of vanishing when a person’s back is turned she just starts running towards the window she used to get into Stromwell’s apartment. Batwoman doesn’t bother checking to see if anyone has followed her back to the Tumbler, she just climbs into the massive car and heads back towards Wayne Manor as fast as she can. Batwoman knows that Tony Zucco is going to follow in his father’s footsteps. He’s going to try and kill the boy who bore witness to his crimes. He’s going to try and kill Dick Grayson… which means he’s going to try and harm Rachel Wayne’s family.

She doesn’t aim the Tumbler at the road which leads to the waterfall and the Batcave. Instead Batwoman heads straight to Wayne Manor… and just as the majestic house comes into view an alarm sounds in Tumbler—an alarm which has never sounded before, one that the Dark Knight had hoped that she would never have to hear—it signaled that something had set off Wayne Manor’s alarm systems.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

After Rachel Wayne had made her excuses and headed out to search for Tony Zucco, Alfred Pennyworth found himself sitting on the sofa in Rachel’s study with Dick Grayson, telling the little boy every story he can remember about Rachel specifically and the Wayne Family in general. By the time Dick has started to visibly get tired the two have relocated to the kitchen for hot chocolate (complete with mini-marshmallows) and Alfred is telling the story of Rachel’s Great-Great-Grandfather’s involvement in the Underground Railroad.

As Alfred rinses out the mugs and wonders if Dick will be able to sleep in his bedroom tonight, the Manor’s intruder alert starts goes off. Almost instantly Alfred is at the nearest panel which links into the alarm system—which had been designed specifically for the Manor and it’s more unusual features by Lucius Fox. It only takes the butler a few seconds to find the intruder, who had set off the alarm when he climbed over the fence surrounding the Manor and is quickly making his way towards the house itself. Alfred doesn’t recognize the man—but he does see that the man is armed, with what appears to be a pistol in his right hand.

Alfred quickly keys in the sequence which will alert the police and the Dark Knight. He pulls open a drawer underneath the alarm panel and pulls out his shotgun—Rachel Wayne may despise guns and refuse to use them, but she had actually been the one to ask Alfred if he wanted some kind of weapon.

“Alfred?” Dick asks, moving to the butler’s side, his eyes wide.

“This way Master Grayson. There appears to be an armed intruder.” Alfred explains as he leads the young man towards the Wayne Family wine cellar. It’s the closest defendable room to the kitchen and while it’s dark even with all the light on, Alfred knows the dark space like the back of his hand, even though both he and Rachel don’t drink often. There are places where a small boy can hide, Alfred can easily defend the two of them and if worse comes to worse there is a secret passage which leads to the Batcave.

As Dick runs into the wine cellar, Ace at his heels, Alfred hears glass shattering behind him and the sound of someone running towards them. The butler quickly steps inside the cellar and closes the door behind him. The lock on the door is a recent addition, part of his and Rachel’s attempts to make the Manor more defensible—while it is highly unlikely that a situation similar to Rachel’s disastrous 23rd birthday will occur, it makes both billionaire and butler feel more secure. They were planning on reinforcing certain doors, with the wine cellar door being one, but unfortunately hadn’t gotten around to doing that yet. When his employer had time she tended to work on projects more directly related to her nighttime activities.

After locking and securing the door as best he can Alfred leads Dick down the decorative stone staircase that leads into the wine cellar. The staircase curves slightly in a C shape and the way that the racks of wine bottles are laid out hides the fact that there is a small space beneath the staircase. This space is further hidden by several old wood wine barrels which had been purchased to serve as party decorations, back when Martha Wayne was alive and throwing parties. Alfred leads Dick Grayson to this space and, as the intruder rattles the handle of the cellar door, he leans in close to whisper in the little boy’s ear.

“Stay hidden and as silent as you can. He shouldn’t be able to find you.”

Dick gulps, but nods—fierce determination clear on his face. He wraps his arms around Alfred’s waist in a quick, tight hug before he slips into the space under the staircase, with Ace following him in as soon as Alfred gestures for him to do so. Once boy and puppy are hidden, Alfred slowly moves towards another dark corner of the wine cellar—one that is right next to the bottom of the staircase. As the intruder starts to hurl himself against the wooden cellar door Alfred Pennyworth checks his shotgun before pulling his cell phone out of his pocket and pressing the first number on his speed dial, which automatically connects him with Batwoman’s com link and distorts his voice.

“The intruder is armed, we’re in the Wine Cellar.” Alfred whispers into the phone, confident that Rachel will hear him and the intruder won’t.

“It’s Tony Zucco. I’m on my way.” Rachel replies. “Hang on.”

Alfred ends the call, flicks the phone over on to vibrate and slips it back into his pocket. He adjusts his grip on the shotgun and takes two deep breaths to center himself.

Many years ago Thomas Wayne had made Alfred Pennyworth responsible for that which was most precious to him—his eight year old daughter, Rachel. Now Alfred spent his nights waiting for the woman he considered his daughter to come home and when she came home broken and bleeding he stitched her back together. To protect Rachel—to protect the young woman he considered his daughter—Alfred had stood up to Ra’s Al Ghul and at least thirty members of the League of Shadows… and he’d been completely unarmed. Now all he had to do was stand up to Tony Zucco, with a shotgun in his hands and Batwoman racing to help him protect Richard Grayson.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She is within sight of the Manor when Alfred’s voice comes on to her comlink.

“The intruder is armed, we’re in the Wine Cellar.” 

“It’s Tony Zucco. I’m on my way.” Rachel replies, doing her best not to let her concern and her fear for the safety of her family be heard in her words. “Hang on.”

Alfred ends the call and Batwoman pushes the Tumbler to a greater speed as she presses a button which places a call to Commissioner Gordon.

“Tony Zucco is heading to Wayne Manor.” The Dark Knight informs the Commissioner the moment he picks up the phone. “He’s planning on killing the boy.”

“Something tripped the Manor’s alarm system.” Gordon notes. Batwoman can hear him moving out of his office. “We’re on our way. You already there?”

“Almost.” Batwoman replies as she races through the front gates of the manor, which opened the moment that Alfred told the security alarms to call the police. She hangs up before Gordon can respond and pulls the Tumbler to a sudden stop in front of Wayne Manor. Before the car has even come to a complete stop Batwoman is out, hitting the ground rolling she races towards the Wine Cellar and the man who is trying to harm her family.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

What seems like a handful of seconds after Alfred ends the call to Rachel the cellar door gives way and Tony Zucco stumbles on to the landing at the top of the stairs. He doesn’t even attempt to turn on the lights in the wine cellar, instead he just adjusts his grip on the handgun and starts heading down the stairs. The man is panting heavily, as if he’d just run a marathon… he doesn’t seem concerned and clearly thinks that he will find Alfred and Dick completely defenseless.

Alfred waits until Zucco is on the second to last stair before he slams the butt of the shotgun into Zucco’s right knee. Zucco howls in pain and staggers forward, which causes him to fall almost flat on his face. Before the man can recover Alfred vanishes back into the shadows.

Zucco slowly gets to his feet, spitting and cursing. Once he manages to stand up he aims his gun at the darkness as he squints, trying to find his target. Alfred glances over at the wine barrels which Dick is hidden behind, just to make sure that the little boy is staying out of sight.

“I just want the boy old man.” Zucco sneers as he hesitantly takes a step forward, which actually takes him a step away from Alfred and Dick. “Give him to me!”

“Never.” Alfred growls, using a trick he’d learned from an old friend to throw his voice. Zucco swerves around and shoots at where he thinks Alfred is—the bullet cuts through the darkness and lodges itself in the soft stone of the wine cellar’s walls. Zucco follows the path of his gun and curses when he doesn’t find a body or even a bloodstain.

“Then I’ll just kill both of you.” Zucco growls as he moves away from the wall. “You can’t hide forever.”

“They won’t half to.” Batwoman growls from the landing at the top of the stairs. When Tony Zucco spins around to face the Dark Knight a batarang knocks the gun out of his hands. He tries to reach out and grab the gun, only to have Batwoman leap from the landing and smash into him. Alfred stashes his shotgun among the bottles of wine and moves over to where Dick is hiding.

While Batwoman handcuffs Tony Zucco Alfred helps Dick Grayson climb out from behind the barrels. The little boy stares with wide eyes at the Dark Knight of Gotham as she hauls Zucco upright and forces him to walk up the stairs and out of the wine cellar, with Alfred, Dick and Ace following a short distance behind.

Several police cars have just pulled up next to the Tumbler, looking like children’s toys next to the large black car, when the little group steps out of Wayne Manor. Batwoman all but throws Zucco at one of Gordon’s men as the Commissioner comes running up to the group.

“Where’s Rachel Wayne?” He asks.

“She had a meeting at Wayne Industries.” Alfred explains, his hands resting on Dick’s shoulders. The small boy leans back against the butler and stares at Batwoman. Ace is sitting next to Dick’s feet, looking very pleased with himself and growling softly when Zucco glares at the butler and the orphan. “It was just us in the Manor.”

“Zucco had a handgun, it’s lying on the floor of the wine cellar.” Batwoman informs Gordon. “He fired it at least once, that’s how I found them.”

“Why the wine cellar?” Gordon asked, turning towards Alfred.

“We were in the kitchen when the alarms went off.” Alfred explains. “It seemed like a good place to hide.”

“We’ll need to take an official statement from both of you—I’ll have one of my officers contact Miss Wayne.” Gordon sighs as he turns to glare at Zucco, who is being shoved into the back of a police car. He glances over to Batwoman, who nods silently before she turns to head back to the Tumbler, only to stop suddenly when Dick Grayson runs over and grabs a corner of her cape. The Dark Knight freezes for a second before slowly turning towards the young boy. Silently she looks down at Dick, who stares up at her.

“I’m sorry about your parents.” Batwoman whispers as Dick slowly releases her cape.

“It’s not your fault.” Dick whispers as he stares into the Dark Knight’s eyes. “Besides, you helped catch h—you were looking for him, weren’t you?”

Batwoman silently nods… and then almost falls over in shock when the small boy hugs her, drawing astonished looks from the police officers around them. Awkwardly and hesitantly the Dark Knight places one of her gloved hands on Dick’s shoulder.

“Thank you.” He whispers, giving her a huge smile before he darts back over to Alfred’s side. Batwoman offers Dick the smallest smile, before she heads back to the Tumbler and heads off into the night.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When the police finally leave Wayne Manor it’s too late at night and everyone is too tired to do anything but stagger off to bed. The next morning Rachel finds Dick Grayson in his room, packing what little he had removed from his suitcase. Silently Rachel steps into the room and watches the young acrobat for a few seconds before she speaks.

“Dick?” 

The boy turns around to look at Rachel. He awkwardly shifts from foot to foot  as he looks between Rachel and his suitcase.

“Batwoman got him.” He whispers. “You can send me off to Foster Care now.”

“Dick…” Rachel pauses for a second as she stares at the young boy. “Do you want to leave?”

“What?” Dick blinks.

“I don’t want to send you off to Foster Care.” Rachel replies, her voice cracking slightly. “I’d like to have someone to come home to—someone other than Alfred.”

“You—you want me?” Dick practically gasps.

“Dick, this house can be your home for as long as you want it to be.” Rachel steps forward and kneels down, her hands moving to rest on Dick’s shoulder’s. The boy stares at Rachel, tears gathering in the corner of his eyes. He raises one hand to wipe away his tears and smiles softly at Rachel.

“I’d like that.” He whispers and Rachel hugs him gently before allowing Dick to step back. He blinks once and a small frown grows on his face. “I don’t have to call you Mom, do I?”

“No.” Rachel giggles as she stands up and Dick glances over at his suitcase. “I better go get Alfred—I bet he’s already got the paperwork ready.”

“What? Why? How?” Dick squeaks.

“Alfred can see the future—either that or he just makes really, _really_ good guesses.” Rachel replies with a smile as Dick slips his hand into hers and they leave the bedroom together.

 

_ Author’s Note: Sorry for delays. I kept getting the urge to write the other fic that I’m currently working on ([Illuminating The World](../../314660/chapters/504624), which is a Sherlock fanfic), I’ve started writing another Sherlock fic with a friend of mine… and then I had midterms. But now it’s spring break, so hopefully I can write a whole lot! _


	28. Alter Ego

**_ Alter Ego = Latin for “Another I” _ **

 

**_ Have you been walking on a surface that’s uncertain? _ **

_ Their bedroom feels like a cave, like the cave—the one which is the dark home of both Batwoman and her namesakes. The crystal walls of the Fortress of Solitude have darkened, as if they can somehow absorb the grief that hangs in the air of the room like an invisible fog—or a deadly gas. The only light comes from a small section of the crystal walls which has remained white and allows a few rays of sun to sine into the rafters, where it creates a sort of dim glow that illuminates but does not reach the ground. Directly across from the door the wall is curved in the center, creating a circular niche when their bed lies. The end of the bed is the only part open to the rest of the room and across this opening two curtains have been pulled together, so that only a sliver of space is exposed. _

**_ Have you helped yourself to everything that’s empty? _ **

_ Rachel lies curled up in the fetal position, the bed’s covers and pillows pushed around her into a sort of nest. Her hands are pressed to her face and her entire body shakes with the force of her sobs—the sound of her howls of sorrow tears at Clark’s heart. It seems like they should have some sort of effect—her sorrow is so great that it should be able to shatter the crystal of the Fortress, or at least crack the walls. _

**_ You can't live this way too long. _ **

_ Instead Rachel’s cries just echo, as if the noise itself is struggling to fill the silence with it’s mournful sound. There’s almost an otherworldly feel to the cries, as if the world is starting to fade away, and soon only Rachel’s cries will remain. _

**_ There's more than this, more than this. _ **

_ The AI has already removed every… every artifact of what they have lost. This is small comfort, for it only makes the room feel painfully empty. Clark quickly crosses the room, her footsteps seeming unbearably loud. He sits down on the edge of the bed and closes the curtains behind him before moving over to Rachel, who has her back pressed up against the headboard. When Clark reaches out to her she uncurls ever so slightly—just enough that the Last Son Of Krypton can see her tear streaked face. She stares at Clark for a second before a fresh sob forces her eyes closed. _

**_ Have you been standing on your own feet too long? _ **

_ “Rachel—” Before he can offer her any comfort Clark is cut off by the Dark Knight. _

_ “I didn’t know.” Instantly Clark wraps his arms around her and Rachel curls around him, burying her face into the crook of his neck  “Oh God, I didn’t know—I swear I didn’t know!” _

**_ Have you been looking for a place where you belong? _ **

_ Superman doesn’t know what to say—he doesn’t know if there actually is anything to say. What are you supposed to say to someone who has lost something… something so immense and yet so small? _

_  “I know.” Clark whispers as he runs a hand down Rachel’s back. He can feel her tears on his shoulder. “It’s not your fault Ray.” _

_ “It feels like it’s my fault.”Batwoman whispers, one hand clutching at Clark’s shirt. “I… I should have known!” _

**_ You can rest, you will find rest. _ **

_ “Rachel…” Clark leans back so that he is resting up against the headboard of the bed. Rachel timidly glances up at him, as if she expects him to react violently. She clearly places the blame for their loss—something which they hadn’t even known they had—upon herself. “Everything is going to be okay Ray. This isn’t the end.” _

_ “It feels like it is.” _ _Rachel closes her eyes and whimpers once, before Clark leans forward to kiss her forehead._

**_ You can rest, you will find rest. _ **

_ The dim light of the bedroom deep inside the Fortress of Solitude gets just a little darker, as Dark Knight and Last Son take what comfort they can from each other’s arms and slowly takes the first steps back into the light… _

**_ Let this old life crumble, let it fade! _ **

Clark Kent’s eye snap open and he wakes up a split second before his hand would have smashed his alarm clock into a million pieces. He blinks, his hand hovering a few millimeters away from said clock—which is currently playing some pop song way too loud for anyone, let alone a pre-coffee Kryptonian.

**_ Let this new life offered be your saving grace! _ **

**_ Let this old life crumble, let it fade, let it fade! _ **

Clark blinks at the alarm before he hesitantly pokes at it—only to have nothing happen. He frowns and tries again, and this time the alarm stops and the music vanishes. With a sigh the Man of Steel rolls out of bed, happy that he didn’t accidently smash the alarm clock into a hundred pieces—which was what happened to it’s predecessor and the reason that the alarm isn’t set to Clark’s preferred radio station.

Clark runs a hand through his hair as he hauls himself upright and heads towards the kitchen, which has the advantages of a window that faces east and a coffee pot. He starts brewing the nectar of the gods (the AI in the Fortress claims that caffeine has no effect on Kryptonians, but Clark doesn’t believe that. It sure _seems_ to have an effect on him.) As the coffee pot starts to work Clark stands in front of the window, soaking up the warm rays of Earth’s sun and listening to the sounds of his city.

_ What the hell was up with that dream? _ Clark mentally sighs as he turns away from the window and heads to his door to pick up his morning newspapers— _The Daily Planet_ and _The Gotham Gazette_. Clark has been reading the Planet since… well ever since he learned how to read, but he’s only been reading the Gazette since Batwoman joined up with the Justice League. Clark closes the door behind him with his foot and tosses the two newspapers on to his kitchen table and starts making himself breakfast… only to find that he’s humming the song that his alarm clock decided to wake him up with.

**_ Have you been holding on to what this world has offered? _ **

**_ Have you been giving in to all these masquerades? _ **

**_ It will be gone, forever gone. _ **

**_ It will be gone, it will be gone… _ **

Clark shakes his head slightly in an attempt to get the song out and sits down to eat… and that’s when the headline of _The Gotham Gazette_ catches his eye—well actually it’s when one word in the headline catches his eye— **WAYNE**. In the blink of an eye Clark has pulled the newspaper out of it’s plastic bag and has it spread out on the table so that he can read the full headline.

** ATTACK ON WAYNE MANOR: Mobster Tries To Silence Witness! **

There are two photographs accompanying the article. The first photograph—which sits between the headline and the article—shows Commissioner Gordon talking to Alfred Pennyworth and Rachel Wayne… who has her arm around the shoulders of a small boy with messy black hair. The photo’s caption identifies the boy as Richard Grayson. The second photograph is smaller and has been placed to the right of the article. This one shows a scruffy looking man—identified by the caption as Anthony “Tony” Zucco, “a former member of the Riley Crime Family”—being shoved into a police car by two officers.

Clark races through the article. He doesn’t exactly have “super-reading” or anything like that, rather it’s just a way of using super-speed that most people wouldn’t think of. Once he finishes he zips to his bedside table to grab his cellphone and speeds right back to the kitchen table, intending to call Rachel and make sure everything is okay. However when Clark looks down at his phone he finds that he has one unread text message, from Rachel and obviously sent at some point during the night.

** Everyone’s fine. Dick thinks Batwoman is the coolest, even compared to Superman. **

** -Rachel **

Clark smiles and quickly types out a response with one hand, while he uses the other to grab a fork and start eating his scrambled eggs.

** Congratulations! You’ve got the vote of an 11 year old boy. I on the other hand can breathe in space. **

** -Clark **

After hitting send Clark sets his phone down on the table and starts eating his toast (which he’d heat vision-ed, something his mom had always been okay with but had freaked his dad out) only to be interrupted by his phone alerting him to Rachel’s reply.

** What makes you so sure I can’t? **

** -Rachel **

Clark almost chokes on a mouthful of bacon and eggs. He coughs a few times and takes a swig of coffee to wash the food down, and that’s when a second text message from Rachel appears on his phone. 

** PS: Dick is staying with me. He doesn’t know, so no dropping by the Manor unannounced… unless you want to become my kept boy/male nanny. **

** -Rachel **

Clark stares at the cell phone before reading the message again—partially to make sure that he hadn’t hallucinated the text, but mostly to try and figure out how to reply to Rachel’s message. The Dark Knight, the terror of Gotham’s underworld, the woman who spends her nights jumping off of buildings… has a foster son. _And she’s still flirting with me— or offering me a job… or both._ Clark slips his phone back in his pocket and starts reading through the rest of the two newspapers, as me makes a mental note to stop by Gotham as soon as possible.

Clark intended for “as soon as possible” to mean “that very night”… but then a request comes in from Green Lantern Corps, asking for his help in dealing with a warlord a few solar systems away. Of course the Last Son of Krypton accepts… and ends up being off world for two weeks.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

All things considered, the world seems to accept Rachel Wayne’s new position as Richard Grayson’s foster mother fairly easily. There’s been an increase in the number of reporters camping outside of Wayne Manor and following Rachel around Gotham, as well as a few snide comments from the more stuck-up members of Gotham society, but no one has actually objected or caused that big of a fuss.

However there have been certain people who have expressed confusion over the fact that Dick is Rachel’s _foster_ son, not just her son. The fact is that, if Rachel expressed any desire to adopt Dick, she could be declared his adoptive mother in about ten seconds flat. But the billionaire is hesitant to even bring up the idea with her ward (as the paper’s keep calling Dick). Part of her feels that, if she did legally adopt Dick, she would somehow be dishonoring his real parents.

Rachel loves Dick, loves him with a fierce intensity that both surprises and (if she’s being honest) scares her. The best part of her day has become the moment in the morning when she sees Dick and he smiles at her as he says “Good morning Ray.”

Three days after their deaths Marry and Jonathan Grayson’s will is read. The two had asked that Dick be placed with his grandfather—Yoska Grasinka—but the man had unfortunately passed away only a few weeks ago. Neither Marry nor Jonathan had been able to update their wills before their untimely deaths. Dick didn’t have any other close family, so Rachel had been allowed to become his foster parent.

In accordance with their wishes, the Graysons had been cremated—so that their son could carry them with him in his travels. The two’s ashes were placed into a single urn—a simple box constructed of a rich dark wood, engraved on one side with their names and dates, while the opposite side was engraved with the image of two birds flying side by side.

Alfred and Rachel had gone to the funeral with Dick—it had been a small, intimate affair, just Dick and the other members of the circus. At the end of the service Dick had said his goodbyes and gone back to Wayne Manor, leaning against Rachel’s side during the car ride, with the wooden urn on his lap. When the trio entered the Manor Rachel had told Dick to put the earn wherever he thought it should go… after a few seconds of hesitation, Dick had gone into the library and placed the urn on the mantelpiece—right underneath the portrait of Thomas and Martha Wayne.

In the days that follow the Manor slowly starts to show visible signs of Dick’s presence—his favorite cereal appears in the pantry and his favorite food in the fridge. The room across the hallway from Rachel’s gets a new coat of paint—navy blue—as well as new furniture and sheets for the bed. Alfred manages to locate a large Flying Grayson’s Poster, which he has framed and hangs on the wall of Dick’s room, while Rachel manages to track down the man who painted the portrait of her parents and gives him copies of every photograph she can find of Mary and Jonathan Grayson. Within a week the fireplace in Dick’s room has a portrait of his parents hanging over it. Despite this Dick keeps his parent’s urn on the mantelpiece in the library, underneath the Wayne’s portrait, as if Rachel’s parents are watching over Dicks’.

One day while Rachel is out on actual Wayne Enterprises business—as opposed to the sort of Wayne Enterprises business which is really just code for “I’m going out to be Batwoman”—Rachel sees a shirt hanging in a downtown Gotham store and can’t resist buying it for Dick. Said shirt is black, with Batwoman’s stylized bat symbol—the same one that is on the batsignal—on it in bright yellow. Rachel presents the shirt to Dick as soon as she gets back to the Manor… and the little boy wears it every day until Alfred is forced to steal it while he’s sleeping so that it can be washed.

One of the members of the press manages to get a picture of Dick wearing the shirt while he plays in the Manor’s gardens with Rachel and Ace—who has finally started growing and is adorably clumsy on his new longer limbs. The photo shows Dick being helped to stand by Rachel after Ace had knocked him over… it manages to show both Rachel and Dick, as well as Dick’s Batwoman shirt. The photograph is printed in the society section of every newspaper in the world and the moment Rachel gets her hands on a copy it becomes the background on her laptop and a tiny copy gets tucked into her wallet.

For two glorious weeks Rachel manages to keep Dick separate from her nighttime activities… it helps that, for those two weeks, Batwoman is going against small timers—the sort of people whose exploits don’t normally get featured on the nightly news. They’re also the sort of people who go down easily, so she gets back at the cave late/early enough to get a semi-decent night’s sleep. Dick doesn’t seem to notice her absence and Clark is too busy off world to drop by and make life difficult.

Of course nothing can last forever.

The various clocks of Gotham are tolling out two in the morning on what will be Richard Grayson’s fifteenth day of living at Wayne Manor when Batwoman finishes her trek across the city, ending up in the same alley in which she’d found Ace… only to find Superman sitting cross-legged in the air a few inches above the hood of the Tumbler.

“I checked five times, there no cameras, listening devices or people to listen in within earshot.” Superman says as he straightens up before landing in front of Batwoman. “So how’s Richard?”

For a second Batwoman considers insisting that they go somewhere else to talk about this, but she’s about 99.42% sure that Clark would just lift her up into the clouds and insist on talking while up there, with her in his arms and nothing beneath her feet.

“He prefers Dick.” Batwoman sighs. “He’s… he’s good, I think. I mean he misses them, of course. I still miss mine—but, on the whole, he seems happy.”

“And he doesn’t know?”

“No.” Batwoman sighs. “He thinks I’m going to business meetings.”

“Every night?”

“No. Mostly I… well I sneak out.” The Dark Knight sighs and crosses her arms in front of her chest. “Look, I managed to hide this from you—I’m still hiding it from the entire Justice League. I don’t think that hiding from an eleven year old boy will be that hard.”

“You live with him.” The Man of Steel points out. “How long till he notices that you’re not in bed, or he finds a hidden passage that leads to your cave?”

“Why would he look for one?”

“You live in a castle!” Superman laughs.

“It’s not a castle.”

“It _looks_ like a castle, and every little kid knows that castles have hidden passageways.” Superman sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Or what if you get hurt? What if you’re shot again? Do you really think you could hide _that_ from him?”

“I’ll… I’ll cross that bridge _if_ I get to it.” The Dark Knight stammers slightly. “Is there anything you need Clark, or can I go home now?”

“Well…” The Man of Steel coughs nervously before he somehow manages to reach behind his back and—apparently—pull a dark blue t-shirt from thin air. “I… um, I saw that photo of him in the Batwoman shirt.”

“…where were you carrying that?”

“There’s a pocket in the cape near where it connects to the suit.” Clark laughs as he holds the shirt out to the Dark Knight. “It’s the part of the suit that gets destroyed the least, so I can stash stuff there.”

Batwoman takes the shirt from Superman and unfolds it—the shirt has Superman’s logo on it and looks like it’s just the right size for Dick.

“Feeling unloved?” Batwoman smirks as she refolds the shirt and Clark laughs.

“Well, I can’t help him thinking that _you’re_ the best superhero.” Superman jokes. “Besides, I think he’s good for you.”

“Good for me?” Batwoman blinks, slightly confused by Clark’s choice of words.

“You’re a parent now… look, I know that you can take care of yourself—but I worry.” Clark sighed and looked down at the ground. “I worry that one day, you’re going to be in a situation where you need someone there with you, not someone a comlink call away.”

“Well then it’s a good thing I know someone faster than a speeding bullet.” Batwoman sighs.

“I’m not always fast enough Rachel.”

“I have faith in you.” Batwoman replies as she turns towards the Tumbler and tosses the Superman shirt inside. “Now don’t you have a tall building to go leap?”

Clark blinks as Batwoman turns slightly to look at him over her shoulder, a mischievous smile on her face.

“Take care of yourself Batwoman.”

“You too Superman.”

Batwoman forces herself not to watch the Man of Steel take to the sky. She slowly breaths in and out before she climbs into the Tumbler and heads back to Wayne Manor. Clark’s gift to Dick has wound up on the passenger seat. Batwoman glances at the shirt out of the corner of her eye and wonders how she should give it to Dick. “A friend in Metropolis sent it to me” would probably sound just a wee bit… well suspect and, despite the fact that he’s never been “a friend”, that explanation makes her think of Lex Luthor, someone who she plans to keep as far away from Dick as possible for as long as possible. She could say that she bought it herself but, for some reason she can’t explain, Rachel would rather come up with an explanation that somehow includes Clark. _Alfred will probably be able to figure something out…_ The Dark Knight thinks as she makes the leap from the service road to the cave behind the waterfall.

Soon the Tumbler has come to a rest on its platform and Batwoman is climbing out, holding the folded t-shirt in one hand as she heads over to the computer, intending to check her inbox before she heads off to bed. However, just as she reaches the massive computer the chair in front of it turns around, revealing a Dick Grayson, who is barefoot and wearing his pajamas. The little boy looks up at Batwoman with wide eyes as the Dark Knight sighs and slowly places the still folded up shirt on the nearest clean area of desk.

“This is why Rachel told the Commissioner that I’d be safe here, isn’t it?” Dick asks as he gets to his feet and takes a few steps towards Batwoman. “My foster mom’s got Batwoman on speed dial!”

Strangely enough, the Dark Knight doesn’t even think about lying to her foster son.

“Not exactly.” Batwoman replies, before she reaches up and removes her cowl. There is a moment of silence as Dick stares up at Rachel with wide eyes.

“You’re Batwoman?!” He gasps, hesitantly reaching out with one hand to touch Rachel’s arm, as if he thinks he’s in a dream, one that will end before he touches anything solid. “This is so _cool_!”

Rachel can’t help but laugh at the joy and wonder in Dick’s voice.

“Dick, stay here and let me get changed… we’ve obviously got a lot to talk about.”

Rachel ducks into the area of the cave which she’s started to mentally refer to as the “locker room”. She quickly changes into the grey sweats and the black wife beater that Alfred has left out for her. When she steps back out into the cave, Dick has gone back to sitting in the chair in front of the computer, although now he’s wearing slippers and has a cup of hot chocolate in his hands. Alfred is standing next to him and as soon as Rachel approaches them her oldest friend presses another mug of hot chocolate into her hands.

“I apologize Miss. I thought Master Grayson was asleep.” Alfred sighs, glancing over at Dick.

“It’s okay Alfred.” Rachel replies as she blows on her hot chocolate in an attempt to cool it down.

“Where did you get all this stuff?” Dick asks glancing around the cave, his gaze lingering on a table which has several rows of finished and partially finished batarangs.

“Most of it’s from the Applied Science division of Wayne Enterprises.” Rachel explains. “That’s the place where all of the aborted research projects and prototypes ends up—the stuff that no one knows what to do with. Like the Tumbler.”

“That’s the car, right?” Dick asks, gesturing over to the massive black car in question.

“Yes. It was originally designed for the military, two of them would jump over a river and drag some kind of bridge behind it.” Rachel explains, smiling as she remembers the first time that she’d driven the car, with Lucius sitting next to her. “They couldn’t get the bridge to work… but the Tumbler does.”

“What about the suit?” Dick asks, leaning forward slightly.

“Originally designed for the military, but they thought it was too expensive. Lucius gave it a few upgrades—originally I couldn’t turn my head.”

“Cool.” Dick whispers. He takes a sip of his hot chocolate and a strangely comfortable silence settles over the three… a silence which is suddenly shattered by the next three words which come out of Dick’s mouth. “Can I help?”

“Wh-what?!?” Rachel stammers, almost dropping her hot chocolate when she sees that even Alfred—who has always seemed neigh unflappable—is visibly shaken by Dick’s request.

“I want to help you!” Dick replies, setting his mug down on the computer desk as he stands up and moves over to Rachel. “I could… I could be your sidekick!”

“No.” Rachel replies, putting her cup down on the table before she crosses her arms over her chest.

“But… I could teach you how to fly better!” Dick offers. “I’ve seen videos of you with your—” Dick makes a motion which his hands that looks like he’s firing a gun and then pulling on a rope.

“My grappling hook?” Rachel guesses.

“Yeah!” Dick nods enthusiastically. “I could help you be better with it—it’s probably not that different from the stuff I did in the circus.”

“No.” Rachel replies. Dick starts to open his mouth to say something else, but she cuts him off. “Dick, I need you to see something…”

As Dick watches Rachel lifts up the bottom left side of her wife beater, revealing the scar which the Arkham guard’s bullet had left behind. Dick’s eyes went wide as he stares at her scar—which is nasty enough on it’s own, but she’d gotten kicked in the side a few times over the past couple of days, so she’s got several impressive bruises which makes the scar look even nastier.

“My armor is good… but it’s not perfect. This—” Rachel gently rests her hand on top of the scar, remembering how much the wound had hurt, how shocked she’d been… and how terrified Alfred had looked when she’d all but collapsed in his arms. “I got shot Dick, I got shot at close range. Luckily the armor deflected it enough that I was able to get medical attention. I’m not like Superman… I’m just a normal human, and normal humans break. I take my life in my hands whenever I go out—I can’t let you do that too.”

“But you’re all alone.” Dicks whispers as he reaches out and places his small hand on top of Rachel’s, which is still on top of her scar. “What is someone else had been there? Couldn’t they have told you that someone was pointing a gun at you?”

“When I need help I have the Justice League.” Rachel replies, shifting her hand around so that she’s holding Dick’s hand and pulling it away from her scar, so that her wife beater falls to cover her skin once more. “Dick, you’re eleven years old. I’m not going to let my so—I’m not going to let you go out and fight crime!”

“So I have to stay at home and just hope that you come back in one piece?” Dick screams, tears gathering in the corner of his eyes as he clutches at Rachel’s hand. “What happens to me if you die?”

Rachel freezes and her blood runs cold—it’s not the thought of dying that scares her… no, what scares her is the idea of leaving Alfred and Dick behind. She blinks slowly and looks down at Richard Grayson, seeing the same look in his eyes that she’s seen in her own—the desire to make a change, to help, to do something.

“Let me help you.” Dick begs, sniffing as he reaches up to wipe at his eyes. “ _Please_ Ray, let me help you! I don’t want to lose you… I can’t sit on the sidelines while someone cuts you down.”

In the blink of an eye Rachel Wayne drops down on one knee and wraps her arms around Dick Grayson, pulling him into a hug. There are tears in her eyes and Dick is sobbing on her shoulder. The billionaire shivers slightly as she looks up at Alfred, who has taken a sort of half step towards the two of them, and has one hand outstretched, as if he was about to place it on Dick or Rachel’s shoulder.

“Miss Wa—Rachel… while I dislike the idea of Master Grayson being placed in harm’s way, I understand his desire to help.” Alfred whispers as Dick shifts slightly in Rachel’s arms so that he can look at the butler. “If not for my advanced years I would be by your side, leaping off buildings and punching criminals.”

“Alfred, are you saying I should let Dick help me?” Rachel asks feeling the sudden urge to pinch herself, just to make sure she hasn’t suddenly fallen asleep and started having really, _really_ strange dreams.

“What I am saying is that perhaps Master Grayson would benefit from training under you.” Alfred smirks slightly as Rachel and Dick slowly stand up, although they don’t step apart. “I would prefer that Dick remain at the Manor and not end up in some Chinese prison.”

“Chinese prison?” Dick ask, looking up at Rachel.

“Long story.” Rachel sighs, one hand rising to rub at her forehead. “If I agree to this—I’ll be training you, you won’t go out until I think your read and if you go out you’ll follow any orders I give you. Understood?”

“Yes!” Dick nods eagerly as he hugs Rachel. “So you’ll let me help you?”

“Yes.” Rachel smiles as she rests her hand on Dick’s shoulder. “Eventually. You’ve got a lot of training to go through before we get to that…”

“I’ll schedule an appointment with Mister Fox then—I am sure that he would appreciate a head start on Master Grayson’s suit.” Alfred remarks, as he gathers the mugs together. “Will there be anything else Miss Wayne?”

“No Alfred, I think we could all use some rest. I’ll start figuring out a training schedule tomorrow.” Rachel sighs. As she looks over at her oldest friend she remembers the shirt that Clark had given her. “Oh, Dick—a friend wanted me to give you something.”

“What?” Dick blinks as Rachel grabs the shirt and tosses it over to him. He easily catches the shirt and unfolds it. Once he realizes what the shirt is he gasps in pleasant surprise, because it isn’t that hard to figure out who Rachel’s ‘friend’ is. “ _Superman_ gave you this, for _me_?” 

“He saw a picture of you wearing your Batwoman shirt and got jealous.” Rachel explains, a smirk on her face.

Dick laughs, but then he pauses for a second as he looks down at the shirt in his hands. “If he got jealous over a shirt,” Dick looks up at Rachel, a huge smile on his face. “Then wait till he finds out that I’m your sidekick!”

_ Author’s Note: The song at the beginning is ["Let It Fade" by Jeremy Camp](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w9kqQxvsnc4).  The cremation urn for Dick’s parents: [is based off this real one.](http://www.theurnreview.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/07/wood-cremation-urns.jpg) _


	29. Dis Aliter Visum

**_Dis Aliter Visum = Latin for “The Gods Thought Otherwise”_ **

 

Despite the excitement of finding out that his foster mother is Batwoman and the even more exciting news that she’s going to allow him to become her sidekick, Dick is still just an eleven year old boy and it is two in the morning. So no one is really all that surprised when Dick starts to sort of slowly tilt to one side as he rides the elevator up to Rachel’s study with Alfred and Rachel. Soon Dick is leaning against Rachel’s side and blinking slowly as he struggles to keep his eyes open.

Rachel scoops Dick up into her arms as the elevator comes to a stop. Dick mumbles something that could be a protest or could be an expression of thanks—Rachel can’t quite tell. By the time that Rachel, Dick and Alfred reach the bedrooms Dick is fast asleep. Rachel manages to get Dick tucked in without waking him up or disturbing Ace, who had apparently decided to fall asleep on Dick’s bed while the boy was downstairs in the Batcave.

“Will there be anything else Miss Wayne?” Alfred asks in a soft voice as Rachel gently closes the door to Dick’s room. The Dark Knight hesitates for a second before she turns to face her oldest friend.

“I… I’m confused about something Alfred.” Rachel replies.

“Oh? And what would that be?”

“I would have thought you’d be on my side.” Rachel sighs. “I’d have thought that you would have helped me persuade Dick not to follow me—especially after all the times that you’ve had to stitch me back together.”

“I trust that certain missions will be off limits to Master Richard… and I know you will either tell him to run or contact Mr. Kent the second that you feel you cannot properly protect him.”

“But still, he’s just a kid Alfred. I mean, at least I—”

“You ran away from home, traveled around the world, ended up in prison in _China_ of all places and then blew up a monastery. I didn’t hear from you for four years—you were declared legally dead.” Alfred says, cutting off Rachel’s protest. “If you believe that is the preferable course of action, then I believe that the next boat bound for Europe leaves at 4:15. If we hurry then we may just be able to sneak Master Richard onboard.”

Rachel laughs—but she quickly presses a hand to her lips to muffle the noise—both because of how broken and desperate the laughter sounds and because she is afraid of waking Dick.

“Why do I ever try to argue with you?” Rachel asks with a sigh as she moves over to her own bedroom.

“Usually you don’t.” Alfred smiles softly. “Miss Wayne… I believe that Master Richard is right. I think that you would benefit from having someone with you.”

Rachel pauses, her hand on the doorknob to her room, unsure of how to respond. After a few second of silence Rachel simply shrugs and opens the door to her bedroom.

“Goodnight Alfred.” She glances over her shoulder at the older man.

“Goodnight Miss Wayne.” Alfred replies, a soft smile on his face.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Richard Grayson is a good student, which is a good thing because Rachel Wayne doesn’t think of herself as a very good teacher… after all, Rachel’s never had a student before. She’s always _been_ the student, from the moment she boarded a ship and left Gotham to the point where she realized she couldn’t kill a man, not even in the name of justice. Rachel had quickly learned how to punch and kick, to use the self-defense she’d learned in college in the real world. She’d traveled with gypsies, learned tricks from escape artists and spent several weeks tagging along with the world’s only consulting detective (although Sherlock hadn’t called himself that at the time).

Teaching Dick what Rachel thinks he needs to know is… interesting. Some things are easy—like how to use a grappling hook and how to drive the Tumbler. Some things are easy, but take time, like teaching Dick how to notice what most people don’t and how to deduce. Some things are difficult, like fighting, because Dick keeps pulling his punches.

Rachel has to make a lot of it up as she goes. Not only does she have no experience teaching, but the methods that her teachers used aren’t exactly appropriate for an eleven year old boy… and even if they were, it isn’t like Rachel’s got a frozen lake lying around for her and Dick to have a swordfight on.

During the day Rachel splits her time between Wayne Enterprises and helping Dick train—Alfred is in charge of homeschooling, although Rachel ends up doing her fare share. At night she patrols Gotham, while Dick sits in the cave and watches her on the computer screen. Batwoman borrowed some surveillance tech from the Justice League, which Lucius modified slightly so that Dick can see and hear everything the Dark Knight does.

It’s… strangely enjoyable to have Dick “along for the ride”. He likes to make jokes and horribly cheesy puns, but he pays attention. Usually he can follow Rachel’s deductions and notice what she notices. Of course there are still times when Rachel turns off the surveillance—after all, she is the Dark Knight and this is Gotham. However it’s nice to have someone to talk to when Batwoman is on stake out… like tonight.

 “What about Batboy?” Dick asks as Batwoman stares down at the Gotham National Bank. “I mean, it’s lazy—but it goes with Batwoman.”

“Try saying it out loud—pretend you’re introducing yourself to Superman.”

“I’m Batboy?” Dick giggles. “Yeah, that sounds like I run errands for a baseball team…”

Dick is sitting in the cave, probably with a blanket wrapped around him and a cup of hot chocolate sitting on the desk in front of him. Alfred will be standing behind Dick, partially to help out if Batwoman needs anything and partially just to keep an eye on Dick. Batwoman is sitting on top of an office building directly across from the Gotham National Bank, waiting for someone to rob said bank.

There’s a new villain in Gotham—although, to be honest, calling her a “villain” is being way too generous. She calls herself Doctor Ray Divine and in the past week she’s robbed several tech companies. Tonight the “Doctor” has apparently decided to attempt to improve her reputation by not only robbing a bank but by alerting the police ahead of time.

In all of her previous tech company robberies Doctor Ray Divine hadn’t bothered destroying the security camera footage. Ray Divine is a very slim, very small woman. It’s hard to tell exactly how tall she is from the security camera footage, but Batwoman is reasonably sure that the “Doctor” would only come up to her shoulder. She has neon green hair, which looks like it’s actually a cheap wig, that she wears in long pigtails. Her costume… well when Dick had seen a picture of her from the security cameras he’d started humming “My Freeze Ray” from _Dr. Horrible’s Sing Along Blog_.

The woman wore thigh-high black boots, a sort of mini-dress version of Dr. Horrible’s white lab coat and black leather gloves. She has a pair of ridiculously huge goggles perched on her head and a sort of fanny pack / gun belt around her waist. She had a large ray gun on a strap over one shoulder, a gun which she’d never used in any of the robberies. Instead she’d used the two guns that hung from her belt.

Doctor Ray Divine’s guns look like poorly put together bits of stolen technology that only work through some sort of magic. They look like bad movie props then actual working weapons. She appears to only have two of the smaller ray guns, one which shoots a bubblegum pink ray and one that shoots a cobalt blue ray. The pink ray gun—which Dick has dubbed “the mime ray”—somehow imprisons anyone shot by it in a glass box, so that they look like a mime. The glass boxes can’t be broken from the inside, but break relatively easy from the outside. The second gun, the one which shoots blue rays, is sort of a tractor beam, which Ray Divine can use to push things around.

Batwoman isn’t entirely sure why Doctor Ray Divine has suddenly decided to become a villain, or why the woman wants to rob the Gotham National Bank. All of the Doctor’s robberies have been relatively minor—only a few thousand dollars of property stolen and destroyed. But a threat had been made and the sooner that Batwoman got Ray Divine into either handcuffs or a straightjacket the sooner she could go home.

Doctor Ray Divine hadn’t been kind enough to tell the police what time she was going to rob the bank, so the police had started their stakeout at sundown, while Batwoman got in a quick patrol of Gotham. Gordon wasn’t really all that concerned with Ray Divine, so the police presence was a grand total of two cars with four officers.

By the time that the nearest church bell is tolling out ten o’clock Batwoman has been sitting on the roof for two hours, which Dick has somehow managed to fill with just the right of babble so that Rachel isn’t bored.

“You don’t have to go with my theme.” Batwoman remarks as she scans the surrounding streets. “I’m only Batwoman because I used to be scared of bats.”

“You were scared of bats?” Dick asks, giggling a little.

“Remind me to tell you about how I found the cave.”

“Okay, so I should call myself something I’m scared of?”

“Only if you think it works.” Batwoman laughs softly. “What are you scared of?”

“…spiders.” Dick whispers.

“Spider boy?” She suggested.

“That makes me sound like Spiderman’s sidekick.”

“…who?” Batwoman asks.

“Spiderman.”

“Where does he operate?”

“Comic books.” Dick laughs. Before Rachel can say anything in response the police radio makes the crackling sound that she’s learned to recognize as indicating that someone is about to talk.

“We’ve got a cab coming up Nolan Street.” The voice belongs of Officer Rene Montoya, who is currently sitting in a plain car about a block away from the bank, which sits on a one way street.

Silently Batwoman watches the cab make it’s way up the street. It stops right in front of the Gotham National Bank and Doctor Ray Divine steps out of the back seat as if she’s on her way to a nightclub and not on her way to rob a bank.

“ _Seriously?_ ” Dick shouts and Batwoman is grateful for the volume controls built into the com link they use to communicate. As Batwoman and Dick watch the green haired woman calmly pays her cab fare and turns towards the bank with a huge smile on her face. “Who… who does that?”

“Someone whose in way over her head.” Batwoman replies before she leaps off the roof, silently gliding down to the pavement and making her way up behind the unsuspecting Doctor Ray Divine—which she suddenly realized sounded like a stripper name. Ray Divine is standing in front of the bank’s doors, rummaging through several pouches on her belt when Batwoman speaks.

“If you surrender now,” the Dark Knight says in her most authoritarian voice, “then only your dignity will be hurt.”

“Aha!” Ray Divine cries out, spinning around to face Batwoman she puts her hands on her hips and smirks. “The Dark Knight herself—exactly who I wanted to see!”

“Oh?” Batwoman sighs. “And why would you want to see me?”

“Because tonight is my time of triumph! The moment when I become part of history!” Ray Divine explains. “The night when I, Doctor Ray Divine, seize control of Gotham!”

For a second all that Batwoman can do is stare at the young woman with the ridiculous wig, who thinks that she can actually take control of Gotham in _one_ night.

“You seriously think _you_ can take over Gotham?” Batwoman can’t stop herself from laughing as Ray Divine glares at her. “

“You dare to doubt my power?” Doctor Ray Divine growls, pulling her two small ray runs out of their holsters and pointing them at Batwoman. “Then you shall face the wrath of Doctor Ray Divine, Mistress of Magic and SCIENCE!”

Ray Divine fires her guns—which are almost insultingly easy to avoid. Ray seems to have trouble both aiming and firing quickly, so as long as the Dark Knight keeps moving she’s not really in any danger of getting hit. The police have moved closer to the bank but are keeping their distance… it doesn’t take long for Batwoman to destroy the bubblegum pink ray with a batarang. Ray shrieks in anger as she drops the pink ray, which throws off multicolor sparks before exploding in a small burst of light. As Batwoman tries to hit the other ray gun, Ray Divine pulls a black crystal, about the size of a matchbook, from a pouch on her belt and hurls it at the Dark Knight.

Batwoman dodges the crystal, but the second the crystal hits the ground it shatters and there is a flash of intense bright white light, which blinds the Dark Knight just long enough for Doctor Ray Divine to use her blue ray gun to pin Batwoman to the ground.

When Batwoman can finally see again she is lying on her back on the ground, with one of Ray Divine’s feet pressing down on her chest as the green haired woman stands over her. The blue ray gun is still aimed at Batwoman and is still turned on, making it feel like Batwoman has a bolder on her chest, pinning her to the ground. However the blue ray gun is now on Ray divine’s belt, and the so called “Mistress of Magic and Science” is holding her large ray gun in both hands and pointing it at Batwoman’s feet.

“Do you know what this is Dark Knight?” Ray asks. “This… is my Variable Particle Ray. When it’s scarlet light touches you it will push you into a pocket dimension, leaving me with my very own paperweight containing the one and only Dark Knight!”

“Why?” Batwoman gasps out, the weight of the blue ray gun’s beam making it hard to breathe let alone speak.

“Because I’ll be the one who took down Batwoman!” Ray Divine cackles. “With you gone I will rule this town!”

“This is a stupid plan.” Dick hisses over the com link.

“You think the Joker will just… bow down to you?” Batwoman asks.

“I will succeed where he failed! I will be able to reach into that pocket dimension and remove your mask, I will reveal your identity and have you as my trophy! You shall make them all listen to me!” Ray screams as Batwoman manages to get hold of her grappling hook and starts to aim it at the blue ray gun. “Then they all will see the awesome scientific might of Doctor Ray Divine!”

The Doctor does what is a pretty good “Joker laugh” and pulls the trigger of her gun… only for absolutely nothing to happen. Ray blinks in confusion, looks down at the “Variable Particle Ray”, shakes it a little and then pulls the trigger again. This time the ray gun makes a sort of hissing, scraping sound that sounds a little like a sick cat playing pinball.

“That’s not a good sound…” Doctor Ray Divine whispers and Batwoman makes her move.

The Dark Knight fires her grappling hook, which luckily does not seem to be affected by the blue ray gun. The end of the hook smashes into the ray gun, shattering it and freeing Batwoman, who wastes no time in getting as far away from Divine and her big ray gun as possible… which promptly explodes in what would have been a blinding flash of light—if Batwoman hadn’t been looking away and hiding her face in her cape.

Doctor Ray Divine is lying on the ground, unconscious, with her weapon lying around her in charred pieces. The police officers are still recovering from the blast, which apparently they’d been looking directly into. Batwoman quickly moves to handcuff Ray Divine and toss her belt away so that she can’t access any more of her weapons, so it is Dick who first realizes that something is… well not exactly wrong, but certainly different and unusual.

“Um Bats, why is there a hole in the world?”

Batwoman stops picking up pieces of Ray’s destroyed weapon and looks up, instantly seeing Dick’s “hole in the world”.

The hole is about as tall as Dick is, and is suspended in midair roughly where Ray Divine had been standing before her gun exploded. It’s a jagged tear, with the edges looking almost like ripped paper, although they also have a faint multicolored shine, like gasoline in water. Through the ripped edge Batwoman can see what appears to be the wall of a cave.

“What is that?” Dick asks over the com link.

“I’m not sure…” Batwoman replies, carefully moving around the hole. She may not know what it is, but she’s pretty sure that it isn’t something that should be poked at. Batwoman moves to flip her communicator over so that she can talk on the Justice League’s frequency, only for the hole to suddenly shudder as some strange force starts to pull her towards it.

“Mom!” Dick screams as Batwoman falls through a hole in the world and lands on the floor of a cave, her head hitting the stone hard enough to knock her out.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

When Batwoman opens her eyes, she’s lying in the center of a large bed. Her batsuit has been removed and someone has put her in a large t-shirt and loose sweat pants, which look similar to the clothing she prefers to wear when she comes back from patrolling Gotham. However what catches Rachel’s attention is the fact that she’s still got the necklace Henri gave her, which has been placed on top of her shirt and someone has given her two batarangs.

Rachel slowly scans the room—which looks remarkably like one of the unused bedrooms at Wayne Manor, except she can’t be at the Manor, because Alfred would have put her in her own bed, not some different one. She climbs out of the bed, cataloguing the various aches and pains in her body, of which her throbbing head is the worse, and heads towards the window, pulling back the curtain and looking out.

It’s a bright sunny day and the grounds outside the window look exactly like Wayne Manor. Confused Rachel takes a step back, only to hear footsteps in the hallway, followed by the doorknob turning. Without thinking Rachel slips into a fighting stance, one of the batarangs appearing in her fingers as if by magic as the door opens… and a woman who could be her twin steps into the room, a tray with a glass of water and bottle of what appears to be aspirin in her hand. Shocked, Rachel finds herself slipping out of her fighting stance and just staring at her duplicate.

The first difference Rachel notices, the easiest difference to notice, is that her not-twin has a white streak in her hair. The lock of white hair is about two finger widths across and it does not seem to have been dyed white—there is no trace of a different color at the roots.

“Something tore a hole through the multiverse.” The Rachel with the white lock of hair explains as she steps into the room, kicking the door closed behind her. “You fell through that hole into the cave.” The other Rachel placed her tray on one of the bedside tables and picked up the bottle of aspirin, offering it to Rachel.

“What’s with the hair?” Rachel asks as the batarang vanishes and she reaches out to accept the bottle of pills and glass of water from her counterpart.

“It’s a side effect of a spell. I got hurt on a mission.” The woman explains as she sits down on the bed that Rachel had been lying on. “I almost died, but Superman managed to get me help in time.”

“So what’s the plan?” Rachel asks as she returns the empty glass and the bottle of pills to the tray.

“I’ve contacted Daiyu.”

“…who?” Rachel asks as she sits down on the bed a short distance away from this universe’s version of her.

“She’s a magic user based in China. She works with the Justice League.” She explained. “She’s working on a spell to form a path that will take you back to your universe... I do not know how long it will take.”

“So I’ll just have to hide out here.” Rachel sighs, reaching up and slipping the necklace Henri gave her under her shirt. “Even Gotham might think it’s odd that two Rachel Waynes are running around.”

“You actually go by Rachel?” The other woman asks, tilting her head to one side.

“I never thought to go by anything else. Even when I was going around the world I kept using Rachel. You go by something else?” Rachel asks.

“Ray mostly.” She replies, twisting the white lock of her hair around a finger. “It’s strange how little is different between our worlds...”

“But what a change those differences make.” Rachel notes, gazing pointedly at Ray’s left hand, which is still fiddling with her lock of white hair. There is a small but elegant ring on her finger. Ray follows Rachel’s gaze and smiles, before holding out her hand for Rachel to inspect.

The ring is, as Rachel suspected, the Wayne Family engagement ring. It seems that in both universes the Wayne family has a tradition of handing down the engagement ring from one Mrs. Wayne to the next, while creating a new wedding ring for each woman. Martha’s wedding band had been designed so that it wrapped around the engagement ring.

“It’s not…” Rachel trails off awkwardly, one hand rising to touch her necklace.

“No, it’s not Henri.” Ray assures her, a shudder going through her body as one hand rises to press against her stomach. Rachel winces sympathetically when she realizes that Ray must have had the same… _experience_ with Henri Ducard. “We’ve been engaged for two years now—we keep having to reschedule the wedding.”

“Congratulations.” Rachel smiled. “Part of me wants to ask _who_ but—”

“But it’s a bad idea to know your own future?” Ray asks with a smile. “You met Medea Blood on your trip around the world, didn’t you?”

“I stayed with her for a week, before she said I was hopeless at magic.” Rachel laughs softly, remembering the red haired woman.

“I think she still can’t believe how much magic dislikes me—but this isn’t your future, is it?” Ray asks as her gaze move to focus on where Rachel’s necklace is hidden by her borrowed t-shirt.

“Does he owe you a life debt?” Rachel asks.

“Yes.” Ray sighed, her hand rising to touch the necklace. “‘Till my descendents are more numerous then the stars in the sky and the sands of the desert.’ And in your world?”

“Those were his words exactly.” Rachel replies, thinking suddenly of Dick, of how the little boy had screamed out for her as she fell through the hole in the world… how he had called her _Mom_. “Richard Grayson, did you—”

“I adopted him.” Ray cuts her off. “It was the least I could do, after his parents died in front of my eyes.”

“Then where is he? And where is Alfred?” Rachel asks, slightly confused. If Ray had fallen into her world then she would have woken to find Rachel waiting at her bedside, Alfred waiting to tend to her and Dick hovering in the hallway, curious and eager to meet this alternate version of Rachel.

Ray closes her eyes and slowly raises one hand to cover her eyes. She takes a deep breath and does not look at Rachel as she speaks.

“There was a mission. The one that gave me this—” Ray gestures to her white lock of hair. “I almost died… Flash wasn’t so lucky. Lex Luthor killed him and started a war against the League.”

“A war?” Rachel whispers, staring at Ray as she thinks of her world’s Flash—who had given her stuffed animal quails as a Christmas present, who gets her mochas when she does work on the Watchtower. It’s disturbing how easily she imagines the red of Flash’s outfit made darker by blood.

“In the end Luthor was dead and we’d won. But in reality we lost. I was lucky—all I had to lose was my oldest friend and my adoptive son.”

“I’m sorry.” Rachel whispers, hesitantly reaching out and placing her hand on Ray’s knee. This universe’s version of her smiles sadly and places her hand on top of Rachel’s.

“It’s okay…” Ray whispers, giving Rachel’s hand a gentle squeeze. “It cost us a lot, but we’ve got a better world now.”

Rachel’s counterpart looks like she wants to say more, but before she can say anything she blinks and raises one hand to hear ear, where Rachel can just make out the familiar shape of a Justice League communicator.

“Batwoman here.” Ray’s voice effortlessly slides into what Alfred (and Dick) call the “Bat-Voice”. There is a moment of silence as Ray listens to someone talking on the other end, which Rachel can’t hear since she doesn’t have superpowers. “I’m on my way.”

“Mission?” Rachel asks.

“No, just a meeting.” Ray laughs. “They keep wanting to make me an official member.”

“I guess some things never change.”

“I’ll check in on Daiyu on my way back. Hopefully she’ll have an idea on how to send you home.” Ray stands up and reaches into a pocket of her jeans, pulling out a plain black cell phone. “If you need me—”

“I’ll call.” Rachel agrees with a smile. “I could fake an emergency if you’d like?”

“Clark would be able to tell I’m lying.” Ray laughs as she starts heading towards the door. “But thanks for the offer.”

Rachel watches as Ray leaves. She remains seated on the bed, counting the seconds until she’s sure that this world’s Batwoman must be suited up and gone and then counting down ten additional seconds just to be safe.

Wayne Manor has the same exact layout. There are places where Alfred’s absence can be seen, where dust has built up or a book has been left lying around instead of returned to the library. However the Manor is clean so Rachel guesses that Ray has hired some sort of cleaning service, albeit one that doesn’t visit that frequently. The silence of the Manor is disturbing—Rachel keeps expecting Dick to come running around the corner, with Ace chasing after him. Rachel pauses for a second when she realizes that she hadn’t asked Ray about Ace—she wonders if the puppy died when Alfred and Dick did, or if this universe’s Batwoman had never found the Great Dane in the alley.

Rachel Wayne wanders the Manor without any clear destination in mind. It feels… wrong to enter the Batcave without this universe’s version of her, especially when Batwoman is out and about. Eventually her wanderings take her to the library—where she almost trips over her own feet as she looks at the large portrait of Thomas and Martha Wayne.

The portrait is the same as it is in her universe, in fact the entire room is the same as in her home universe, save for a few books not put away due to Alfred’s absence and the fact that the wooden urn that contains the Grayson’s ashes isn’t sitting underneath the portrait of Rachel’s parents.

Confused, Rachel moves to the mantelpiece and runs her fingers along the space where the plain wooden box should sit. She stares at the dust on her fingers in confusion—why would Ray remove the Grayson’s ashes? Perhaps she’d buried them with Dick?

 _It cost us a lot, but we’ve got a better world now._ For some reason Ray’s words echo in Rachel’s head, twisting into something sinister. There is something wrong, but Rachel can’t quite figure out what it is. Without being entirely aware of her actions, Rachel all but runs through the mansion, heading for Ray’s study, which she finds is exactly the same as her’s. With hands that are shaking slightly Rachel turns on the TV and flips to a 24 hour news channel.

“…the Justice Lords have announced that for the safety of the nation elections will not be held this November. This news sparked riots at several colleges today, including Smallville University, where Green Lantern and Hawkman arrived to keep the peace.”

On screen there is footage of a group of college students holding signs and shouting—before the relatively peaceful riot is suddenly broken up by cops wearing riot gear and throwing smoke grenades. The TV remote drops from Rachel’s hand as she stares at the screen.

“You call this a better world?” Rachel whispers. Her mind racing to try and figure out what she should do. Ray and the “Justice Lords” can help her get back to her world… without their help she could easily be stuck in this nightmare forever.

“They do, we don’t.”

Instantly a batarang is in each of Rachel’s hands as she realizes that two young men are standing in the doorway to Ray’s study. The two can’t be more then eighteen… but despite the fact that Rachel is clearly armed and ready to fight, the two young men aren’t in any sort of fighting stance.

The young man who spoke is dressed entirely in green. If not for the color of his hair (which is red) and the fact that he doesn’t have a mustache, Rachel would swear he was Green Arrow—he is wearing Ollie’s outfit (even the silly Robin Hood style hat) and carries both a bow and a quiver of arrows..

“Who are you?” Rachel asks, relaxing ever so slightly although she doesn’t drop her batarangs.

Her gaze shifts to the second young man, who has messy black hair that is just slightly too short to be pulled up into a ponytail. His face is covered by a black domino mask which is similar in shape to Rachel’s bat symbol. He wears a black body suit which has long sleeves, a turtleneck and is lightly armored, with gloves and boots that look like they have compartments. The black of his suit is broken by a sort of v shaped splash of blue on his chest, which somehow manages to look something like a very stylized bird. What would be the wings of that bird go up to his shoulders, where they become stripes that run down the young man’s arms and on to his gloves, ending as stripes which cover the middle and ring fingers on each hand.

“I’m Green Arrow.” The red haired man replied, gesturing to himself before pointing to the other man. “And he’s Nightwing.”

“You’ve met the evil empire—we’re here to take you to the rebel forces.” Nightwing added and Rachel suddenly realized _why_ he seemed so familiar.

“Dick?” She whispers, not actually needing the nod of conformation that this older Dick Grayson gives her. “Why did Ray tell me you were dead?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Sorry for the wait, I was stupid and started another fic (30 Nights) and then my brain kept getting stuck on this chapter. Hope it was worth the wait.
> 
> Daiyu means “black jade” I just needed a Chinese name, so I used a name website and just looked for something that sounded cool. The main reason that Alternate Universe Rachel goes by “Ray” is to make things easier to write and read… and to cut down on the number of times I have to write “the other Rachel”.
> 
> The Wayne family ring is based off of my mother’s engagement ring and wedding ring. Her engagement ring is plain gold with a diamond, then the wedding ring is gold with small diamonds that form a circle around the engagement ring diamond.
> 
> Medea Blood is Scilicet…’s version of Jason Blood (aka Etrigan). She’ll probably show up in a later chapter.


	30. Quae Nocent Saepe Docent

**Quae Nocent Saepe Docent _= Latin for “What Hurts Often Instructs”_**

 

_“I’m Green Arrow.” The red haired man replied, gesturing to himself before pointing to the other man. “And he’s Nightwing.”_

_“You’ve met the evil empire—we’re here to take you to the rebel forces.” Nightwing added and Rachel suddenly realized why he seemed so familiar._

_“Dick?” She whispers, not actually needing the nod of conformation that this older Dick Grayson gives her. “Why did Ray tell me you were dead?”_

 

“She—she _what_?” Dick asks, staring at Rachel in shock for a second before he sighs and looks away. “I… I’ll explain later, we need to get you out of here before Ray comes back.”

“How did you even know I was here?” Rachel asks.

“Medea Blood sensed it or something.” Green Arrow explains. “So are you gonna come with us or not?”

“I need my stuff—I fell into this world as Batwoman.” Rachel heads towards the hidden entrance to the cave, which thankfully ended up being in the same place as it was in her world. Nightwing and Green Arrow followed her down into the cave.

The cave looks much like it does in her world—with a few exceptions. The “museum” section is a bit larger, with what looks like a dinosaur standing next to the giant penny and what appears to be a large glass circular display case which is covered by a drop cloth. Next to the cave’s computer Rachel’s equipment and her batsuit are laid out on a table.

“Hurry up and change, we don’t have much time.” Green Arrow mutters as he scans the cave. As Rachel heads into the cave’s changing room Nightwing moves towards the circular display case, while Green Arrow stays near the computer.

When Rachel emerges dressed in her batsuit Dick is standing next to the case, holding back the drop cloth so that he can see what is inside the display case. Rachel can’t quite make out what is inside, all she can see is a flash or red and green that looks like it could be a suit of some sort. Before Rachel can get a better look this world’s version of her foster son lets the cloth fall back down over the display case and moves back towards Rachel and Green Arrow.

“It’s good to see that suit again.” Dick remarks. “Ray changed it after da—after Clark killed Luthor.”

“Oracle.” Green Arrow has one hand raised to press against his communicator. “We’ve got her and we’re ready to go.”

Instead of the familiar and disorientating feeling of being moved by the Watchtower’s teleporter, there is a sort of pulling sensation... it almost feels like Rachel is being hoisted up in a climbing harness, followed by what feels like a split second of freefall. Then Rachel blinks and finds herself in what looks like an abandoned subway tunnel. To her right an old wrecked train blocks the tracks while to her left there is the faint glow of an old flickering light bulb. Green Arrow and Nightwing are standing by her side, but they soon start heading towards the flickering light.

“What was that?” Rachel asks as she follows close behind the two younger men.

“Magic.” Green Arrow explains. “Zatanna set it up. We don’t have access to the Watchtower’s tech, so we’ve had to improvise.”

The flickering light bulb is mounted in the wall above a door that looks like it has rusted closed and has been spray painted many times. Green Arrow steps forward and touches several different places on one of the spray painted symbols. After a second the door swings open and the three can step inside.

“So where are we?” Rachel asks. The hallway the three have stepped into is well lit and clean, with several doors along the right side but only one on the left.

“New York. An old friend of Ted Kord—I think his name is Dreiberg or something like that, set this all up.”  Dick explains. He pauses for a second in front of the only door on the left hand side of the hallway and looks over his shoulder at Rachel. “You should take off the cowl—it’ll make people more comfortable if they can see that you don’t have the streak.”

“Can’t she just dye it?” Rachel asks as he pulls off the cowl of the batsuit, which ends up hanging around her neck like some strange hoodie.

“Dye doesn’t work.” Dick replies as he opens the door. “Ray tried every dye she could get her hands on, but the white streak would pop back up after she put it on.”

“Blood explained it to us once.” Green Arrow adds with a slight shrug. “Something about ancient magic and escaping death unmarked… it didn’t really make a lot of sense.”

The three walk into a large room which looks like a cross between the conference room and a cafeteria. There is a kitchen set up in one corner, a conference table in the center of the room and a very impressive computer system set up in another corner. The computer looks like it could rival the one back in the Batcave. A young woman with red hair is sitting in front of the main computer screen, typing furiously. She pauses for a second to glace over at Rachel, Dick and Green Arrow.

“Be with you guys in a sec.” The woman calls out before her attention goes back to whatever she’s working on.

“Almost everyone’s out right now, so we should have a chance to get you caught up.” Green Arrow says with a sigh as he moves towards the conference table and flops down into a chair, pulling off his hat and placing it on the table in front of him.

“So where do we start?” Nightwing asks as he and Rachel follow Green Arrow over to the table.

“You can start by introducing me.” The young woman notes as she moves away from the computer and heads towards the table—which reveals that she’s sitting in a motorized wheelchair. She moves the wheelchair up to Nightwing and Rachel and smiles at the two of them.

“Rachel Wayne, meet Oracle.” Dick says with a smile as Oracle holds out her hand for Rachel to shake. “Our resident hacker and general tech goddess.”

“It’s nice to see that costume again… I dressed up as you for Halloween when I was younger.” Oracle replies as she shakes Rachel’s hand. “I’m Barbara, Barbara Gordon.”

“Commissioner Gordon’s daughter?” Rachel asks.

“Yes, he’s Commissioner in our world as well.” Barbara explains. “Ever since the Lords came to power he’s done his best to act as a buffer between them and—well everyone else. Dick, do you want to…” Barbara trails off awkwardly as she glances over at Nightwing.

Dick sighs as he sits down at the table, across from Green Arrow. He closes his eyes for a second before reaching up to remove his domino mask, which he lays on the table in front of him. As Dick slowly opens his eyes Rachel sits down next to him, while Barbara positions herself on the opposite side of the young man.

“Everything started a little over three years ago, when Lex Luthor was elected president—”

“What?” Rachel practically squawks, cutting off Dick Grayson. “ _Luthor?_ ”

“The League was pretty sure there was some sort of mine control device involved—they just never found any proof.” Green Arrow explains.

“So Lex was president for a year, and he genuinely seemed to have turned his life around—but of course he hadn’t.” Dick looks down at his domino mask. “He wanted to control the world and he saw the Watchtower’s laser cannon as an easy way to do that.”

“So he waited until the League was spread thin.” Green Arrow elaborates. “Superman, Green Lantern and Hawkman were returning from an off planet mission. Wonderman and Martian Manhunter were helping with a forest fire, while Flash was dealing with the Mirror Master and Batwoman was up on the Watchtower, doing some repairs… that’s when Luthor decided to sneak onto the Watchtower. Of course, he ended up fighting Batwoman.”

“So Lex went up to the Watchtower alone?” Rachel asked.

“He must not have trusted anyone else.” Barbara replied with a shrug. “Batwoman was in the same room as the cannon controls. Ray tried to sabotage the cannon so that Lex couldn’t use it.”

“But to do that she had to abandon her cover, which gave Lex time to shoot her with his bio-scrambler.” Dick explained. “The Flash was the only one who could respond immediately to the alert that the Watchtower had been broken into. He arrived just in time to see that Ray was going to get shot… he tried to shield her from the blast.”

“Tried?” Rachel asked, a shiver racing down her spine.

“His body shielded Batwoman a little… but Wally died almost instantly.” Green Arrow said with  a shudder. “I heard that half his body was just…gone.”

“Before Lex could fire again Superman was almost at the Watchtower, so Lex had to retreat.” Dick ran a hand through his hair. “Ray was… _really_ badly hurt. Huntress managed to get her hands on footage of the attack a few months ago—and I honestly don’t know how she’s still alive.”

“When the League got there Superman just picked her up and took off.” Green Arrow chimed in. “Everyone thought he was taking her to Dick and Alfred—you know, to say goodbye.”

“But he didn’t.” Rachel guessed and Dick nodded.

“Clark and Ray were gone for sixteen hours. When they came back she was unconscious, but she wasn’t even bruised. The only thing ‘wrong’ with her was that lock of white hair.”

“So Superman left Batwoman at the Manor and joined the Justice League in an attack on the White House.” Green Arrow explained as he leaned back in his chair. “Clark had a chance to arrest Luthor—they had the footage of him killing the Flash—but instead Clark killed him. So the Justice League became the Justice Lords and the world went crazy.”

“So Wonderman, Batwoman, Superman, Hawkman, Green Lantern and the Martian Manhunter are the Justice Lords… but what happened to the other heroes? How did the Lords manage to get control of the world so easily?”

“Manipulation of people’s fears. The Justice Lords publicized footage of the President of the United States killing the Flash and everyone panicked… by the time anyone thought to ask the right questions they were in control.”

Rachel instantly recognized the voice, so she isn’t surprised when the Question sits down in the chair next to her… although she is more surprised when Zatanna Zatara moves around the table to sit next to Green Arrow. The Mistress of Magic and the man without a face nod in silent greeting to Oracle, Green Arrow and Nightwing before he turns to face her.

“Miss Wayne—or would you prefer Batwoman?” The Question inquires, reaching up to tip his hat to her in greeting.

“Rachel is fine.”

“Shortly after Superman killed Lex Luthor the Justice Lords recruited their own personal army. That army, and the Justice Lords, lead to many of earth’s heroes deiding to go along with the Lords—to keep the peace as they had before. They focused on their individual towns and cities.” The Question explains. “If you keep your criminals contained then Superman won’t come in and lobotomize them.”

“ _Lobotomize?!?_ ” Rachel gasps. “Clark _lobotomizes_ people?”

“With his heat vision. Arkham seems like a home for the elderly now.” Dick explains.

“So some heroes do their best to act as a buffer between the Lords and everyone else—Captain Marvel and Aquaman for example.” Zatanna explains. “Some actually stopped being heroes, like Static and Gear... and some decided to rebel against the Lords. Ollie was the first to get an actual rebellion started.”

“When she became a Justice Lord Ray got _really_ paranoid—she wanted Alfred and me to stay in Clark’s Fortress of Solitude… and join the Lords.” Dick sighed. “But I wanted to help people and Alfred didn’t agree with what she was doing.”

“So instead we joined Master Queen’s team.” Rachel couldn’t help but smile at the familiar British accent. She glances to the side and smiles when she sees Alfred Pennyworth, still immaculately dressed in a suit and tie even though he’s living underground.

“Hello Alfred.” She whispers, allowing him to see how glad she is to see him.

“Miss Wayne.” He replies with a small smile and a slight nod.

“So that’s where I come in.” Green Arrow sighs. “My name’s Roy Harper. I was Ollie’s sidekick, they used to call me Speedy. When Ollie started the rebellion by helping Alfred and Dick I joined up.”

“Ollie, Roy and I thought we could make Ray understand.” Dick’s voice drops to a whisper. “We thought that she would change sides and join us if we just had a chance to talk with her… so went to see her. We thought she’d be alone on patrol, but she had soldiers with her.”

“The Justice Lords recruited their own army.” Alfred explains. “They are usually the ones to enforce the peace on a day to day basis.”

 “So we end up top of a building with Batwoman, at least thirty guys with guns and some kind of anti-magic field that kept Zatanna from just magic-ing us away.” Dick says as he starts to fiddle with his domino mask again. “Green Arrow provided us with cover so that we could get far enough away that Zatanna could get us out. Once we were gone he tried to follow, but he got shot.”

“It wouldn’t have killed him—it was just a normal gun and it only grazed his leg.” Roy explained. “But it made him stumble and it made him fall. Ollie ended up hanging off the edge of the building… we could hear him talking to Batwoman over the com-link.”

“She asked Green Arrow to join them, to become a Justice Lord.” Oracle explained. “When Ollie said no, when he said that what they were doing was wrong—she just stood there as if she couldn’t understand what he was saying. Batwoman told her men to pull him up and take him in for processing.”

“To be lobotomized, to disappear or to be… _convinced_ to join the Lords.” The Question clarified.

“Ollie—” Roy choked on the word and raised a hand to wipe at his eyes. “He said that he’d rather die, and then he let go.”

“I’m sorry.” Rachel whispered.

“It wasn’t you.” Roy replied almost instantly. “This isn’t your world, you’re not that Batwoman.”

“I’m sorry if that doesn’t make me feel any better.” Rachel sighs. “What can I do to help you? How can I fix what she’s done?”

“You can’t. Roy is right, this isn’t your world.” Dick says, as Alfred places a hand on Rachel’s shoulder.

“What you can do is go back to your world and make sure that this doesn’t happen.” Alfred tells her.

“So how do I get back to my world?” Rachel asks.

“That’s actually a great deal easier than it has any right to be.” Zatanna smiles slightly as he holds out her left hand. “ _Gnidloh fo gab!_ ”

There is a small puff of multicolored smoke and a sort of “poof” noise and a small drawstring bag appears in Zatanna’s hand. She opens up the bag and reaches inside—her hand going in far further then it should be able to, before she pulls out an old book which shouldn’t fit inside the bag. As Zatanna places the book on the table and starts flicking through the pages the drawstring bag vanishes with another poof and puff of smoke.

“You lucked out, because there’s a really simple spell that should put you back into your universe… it’s a spell intended to locate lost things and return them to where they belong. I’ve found a variant that’ll pluck you out of this universe and drop you back in your’s.”

“So what’s the catch?” Rachel asks.

“It would probably work if we just did it here…” Zatanna explains. “But there’s a better chance of it working if I perform the spell where you were when you fell into this world.”

“So we have to take her back to the Batcave?” Dick asks.

“But I wasn’t in the cave.” Rachel interjects. “In my world I was outside the Gotham National Bank, when I fell into this world I was in the cave.”

“So if we do the spell at the Bank you’ll end up in the cave in your world.” Zatanna says as she peers at the book in front of her. “That makes things easier. I can do most of the prep work ahead of time, so there’s less time for the Justice Lords to stop us. We can send you back tonight.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Dick smirks. “Zatanna will get you back to your world and the rest of us will get the Lords attention so they won’t bother you.”

“I’ll hack into the Watchtower, set up some false signals for the Lords to trace.” Barbara offers. “Question, did you manage to get the information I requested?”

“Have I ever let you down?” The Question replies, producing a flash drive from a pocket of his coat before he and Barbara head over to Oracle’s computer.

“I’ve got a few ingredients to gather.” Zatanna sighs as she closes the book, stands up and starts walking towards. “I’ll be back in—about two hours.”

“Master Roy, I believe Miss Lian should be waking up from her nap any second now.” Alfred informs Roy as he sits down in the seat which the Question has just vacated. Roy glances at Rachel and Alfred, before his gaze shifts to Dick.

“Come on, let’s get changed and watch My Little Pony.” Roy suggests with a smile on his face. “You and Lian can argue about who the best pony is.”

“Argue?” Dick laughs as he stands up and the two young men start heading towards the door. “Lian and I know who the best pony is, you’re the one who refuses to acknowledge the supremacy of Pinkie Pie.”

“Nice to know that subtly is a lost art in every universe.” Rachel sighs as she turns her seat so that she’s facing her oldest friend. “Alfred… what happened to this universe’s version of me? How could she do… any of this?”

 

_Author’s Note: Sorry for the delays. I just finished my final exams for my senior years of college and for some reason thought it would be a good idea to start another fic [Called[ The Science of Deception](http://wolverinegal.livejournal.com/25961.html), it’s a Avengers/Sherlock BBC crossover] since my friend gave me a prompt that would not get out of my head… and then this chapter kept giving me trouble. Hopefully I’ll be able to post more frequently over the summer and get back to something like a schedule for updating my various fics._


	31. Cogito Ergo Doleo

******_Cogito Ergo Doleo = Latin for “I Think Therefore I Am Depressed”_ **

_Rachel sighs as she turns her seat so that she’s facing her oldest friend. “Alfred… what happened to this universe’s version of me? How could she do… any of this?”_

 

“I…” Alfred sighs and glances over at Oracle and the Question before he continues. “I do not know what Mister Kent did to save your counterpart’s life, but I know that it was not just her appearance that changed. I am not aware of the details, but I believe she has either joined the League of Shadows or convinced them to alley themselves with the Justice Lords.”

“Why would she do that?” Rachel asks in a whisper, one hand moving to rest on top of her armor, over the place where her necklace hangs. “I’ve been shot, I’ve almost died and I never even considered going to… to him.”

“Miss Wayne was engaged.” Alfred replies, glancing pointedly at Rachel’s hand, which was still resting on her chest. “I believe that her actions can largely be traced to… to history repeating itself.”

“She knew this time.” It isn’t a question, but Alfred still nods silently. The two remain silent as Rachel rests her head in her hands and feels tears run down her face. She flinches slightly when a hand comes to rest on her shoulders, before she realizes that the hand belongs to this universe’s version of her oldest friend. “Does Dick know?”

“No, Miss Wayne did not tell him.” Alfred sighs, squeezing her shoulder slightly. “I believe that, even if the Justice League had not become the Justice Lords, Master Richard and Miss Wayne would no longer be working together.”

Rachel thinks of her universe’s Dick Grayson, of how excited he had been when he discovered that his foster mother was Batwoman. She thinks of his immediate desire to help her— _So I have to stay at home and just hope that you come back in one piece?_

“Why?” She asks.

“Master Richard was injured—he reacted badly to the newest version of the Scarecrow’s gas and was unconscious for twenty-four. When he recovered Miss Wayne attempted to stop him from going out as Robin.”

“He didn’t understand... let me guess, he’d been through worse.”

“But not because of the Scarecrow. He’d never been knocked out for so long.” Alfred nodded. “To be fair, most people would explain… especially when they had people who cared about them—people who supported them.” Alfred slowly removes his hand from Rachel’s shoulder. “Miss Way— _Rachel_ , if I hadn’t been there you wouldn’t have told me.”

“…you know me too well Alfred.” Rachel whispers, unable to argue with this universe’s version of the man she considers a second father.

“No man is an island Miss Wayne.” Alfred replies as Rachel wipes the tears from her eyes and looks around the room, wondering if anyone saw her break down. Barbara Gordon and the Question are still bent over Oracle’s computers, talking in hushed whispers as their fingers fly over the keys. Rachel’s gaze lingers on the Oracle’s wheelchair for a second before she looks back at the older man.

“How did she end up in a wheelchair?” Rachel asks.

“Our previous hideout was discovered by the Justice Lords. They sent soldiers in to capture anyone they could get their hands on. Miss Gordon and Booster Gold were pinned down, when they made a break for it they each were shot several times with tranquilizer darts. Booster Gold got her to safety and immediately fell into a coma which lasted a week. Miss Gordon was hit several times in her lower back—it paralyzed her from the waist down.” Alfred pauses for a second as he stares over at Barbara. “If anything it has made her more determined to help us stop the Lords.”

“Is Booster okay?”

“He made a full recovery... he gave me this the last time he was here.” Alfred reaches into his pocket and pulled out a picture which he offered to Rachel. She smiles as she looks down at the picture, which shows Booster Gold, out of his bright gold and blue costume, sitting on a black armchair with a little girl in his lap. The girl has messy black hair and emerald green eyes— _her father’s features but her mother’s eyes—_ Rachel thinks. The little girl is smiling as she plays with Skeets, who is ‘sitting’ on her lap.

“How old is she?”

“Ten years old next November.”

“She’s just turned five in my world.” Rachel says with a smile. “So how are they involved in this mess?”

“Officially they aren’t.” Alfred replies. “Unofficially… they do what they can and are always ready to make a run for it.”

“That’s good…” Rachel sighs and shifts slightly in her seat as she hands the picture back to Alfred. “Please tell me there’s something I can instead of just waiting.”

“We can always use another pair of eyes.” Barbara Gordon offers, moving her wheelchair to one side. Rachel takes her up on the offer, nodding silently to Alfred as she makes her way over to the computers.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Rachel buries herself in the ocean of information that Oracle has available which needs to be sifted through and, eventually, night falls. Roy and Dick return to the main room and sit near Alfred, the two young men checking over their equipment as the small group waits for Zatanna to return. As the Mistress of Magic steps into the room Oracle, Rachel and the Question move back towards the large table.

“I’ve organized our distractions—hopefully that’ll keep the Justice Lords away from Zatanna and Rachel.” Oracle explains as she passes a small tablet that looks like an Ipad to Dick and Roy. “Our only problem is getting Superman’s attention to stay focused in one place… we don’t really have anyone who can go toe to toe with him.”

“Roy and I can try.” Dick sighs, running a hand through his hair as he examine the information on the tablet.

“I think I can help with that.” Rachel says, reaching into a pouch on her utility belt and pulling out a small box made entirely out of lead. She opens the box to reveal a piece of kryptonite, a small chunk removed from the rock which Clark had given her. “In my universe Superman gave me this in case I needed to stop him… I think he’ll understand.”

Rachel offers the lead box to Dick Grayson. He hesitates for a second before accepting the Rachel shuts the lead box and hands it off to Dick Grayson. He stares at her for a second before accepting the box. “Thank you.” He whispers.

“Let’s get going.” Zatanna says as she stands up. Oracle returns to her computers, the Question at her side as the Mistress of Magic speaks in a whisper and gestures at Green Arrow and Nightwing. There is a flash of white light and the two are gone as Oracle starts giving orders to people over the rebellion’s com-links.

Alfred stands up and moves over towards Rachel, who is pulling up her cowl and adjusting it nervously. She turns to face this universe’s version of her oldest friend, who reaches out to brush a mote of dust off her cape. “Take care of yourself.”

“You too.” Rachel replies. She hesitantly reaches out, intending to shake Alfred’ hand or perhaps rest her hand on his shoulder… but instead she makes a split second decision and steps forward, hugging Alfred like she is five years old again.

“Tell him.” Alfred whispers before he releases Rachel from. “Then do everything you can to make sure your world doesn’t turn into ours.”

“I promise.” Rachel replies before she turns towards Zatanna. “Are we ready to go?”

“The Lords have started scrambling to deal with our diversions.” Oracle informs them.

“I’ll be teleporting us in. When we land a spell will kick in which will make us invisible and unheard until we step out of that spot.” Zatanna explains “All I need is your hand.”

Rachel glances around the rebellion’s base, her gaze resting on Alfred Pennyworth for a second before she reaches out and takes the Mistress of Magic’s hand.

“Let’s go.”

Once again Rachel feels the strange pulling sensation of being magically transported from one place to another. She keeps a firm hold on Zatanna’s hand and is careful not to take a step when they “land”. Slowly Rachel breathes in and out before she opens her eyes and looks around. They are standing in an alley near the Gotham National Bank, up against a wall and in the shadows cast by the nearby buildings.

Zatanna swears under her breath and it doesn’t take Rachel long to understand why—this universe’s Batwoman is standing alone in front of the Bank, clearly waiting for Rachel to arrive.

“This isn’t good.” Zatanna whispers. “One call and she can have an army to stop us from opening that portal and sending you through.”

“…if I go out there, can you stay hidden and get the portal open?”

“Yes—you think you can distract her?” Zatanna asks.

“I’ve got a few ideas.”

Zatanna mutters a spell or two before she gestures for Rachel to move and slowly moves back into the alley. Rachel take a deep breath and steps out of the alley, heading towards Ray, who turns to face Rachel but does not move towards or away from her.

“You lied to me.” Rachel says as she comes to a stop in front of Ray, just out of arms reach. “You said that Alfred and Dick were dead.”

“All I want is for them to come home and be safe—but they continue to put themselves in danger. It is easier sometimes to think of them as deceased.”

“How can you not see that this is wrong?” Rachel asks, staring at her counterpart.

“Why can’t you see that this is a better world?” Ray responds without missing a beat.

“A better world?”

“A world’s whose heroes are willing to do whatever is necessary to protect the people.” Ray replies. “A world where the criminals are the ones begging for mercy.”

“The sort of world Ra’s Al Ghul wanted.” Rachel practically snarls. “Something tells me you never show anyone mercy—not anymore.”

“For good reason. Who has ever show us mercy? When has the world ever given us anything but pain?”

“It gave us Richard.” Rachel whispers, thinking of the bright young boy waiting for her in her universe and the broken young man who was fighting Superman to give her a chance to return to her fost… to her _son_.

“After killing his parents.” Ray replies. “The Lords and I are creating a world where no eight year old girl will lose his parents because of some punk with a gun. A world where no mother will ever—”

“No… that’s not what you’ve done.” Rachel whispers, tears getting stuck between her face and the cowl of her suit. “You’ve created a world where the Justice Lords will be the reason that girl has lost her parents. Maybe they’ll both be dead, or maybe mommy will be fine, but daddy will be a drooling vegetable sitting in the corner staring at the wall.”

“If that girl’s father is a vegetable then it’s probably better for her.” Ray snapped back.

“You can’t know that.”

“Neither can you!”

“At least I can stand to look at myself in a mirror! At least I can go to sleep knowing that my parents would be proud of me!” Rachel hisses, staring straight at Ray as she speaks. “At least I have a son who looks up to me!”

“You can still have that. I can save your world and together we can save this one!” Ray says with a smile, offering her hand to Rachel as if she had fallen and needed help getting back on her feet. “Take me with you! Zatanna doesn’t need to know, we can make it look like we were fighting and fell in together.”

“Rachel!” Zatanna screams from somewhere behind them.

“Who said we were opening a rip?” Rachel asks, holding up a hand and watching as it starts to fade. Ray lunges forward, trying to grab on to her counterpart, only to pass through Rachel as if she was a ghost. Rachel turns to look at Ray, who is kneeling on the ground staring up at Rachel. Her counterpart looks confused and lost, as if she—despite their “conversation”—she still can’t understand why Rachel doesn’t want to join her.

Ray does not move as Rachel fades from one universe and appears in another. There is a horrible moment which seems to last for a small eternity where she is nowhere, with a feeling of terrible howling nothingness pressing in around her from all sides and no sides at the same time. She feels like she is being crushed at the same time that she is being expanded to fill an infinitely large space… then she appears in the Batcave, standing near the Tumbler, as if she had been walking away from the powerful car and become lost in thought.

Rachel slowly looks at the cave… she can’t explain it, but there is a feeling deep inside her that all but screams that she is actually home—that this is the universe she left, that Zatanna’s spell worked. Before Rachel can question the deep seated sense of home, the doors to the elevator opens and there is a joyful shriek, followed by Dick Grayson all but tackling Rachel. Dick wraps his arms around Rachel’s waist in a tight hug, which she instantly returns.

“Rachel! What happened to you?” Dick asks as he stares up at Rachel, who quickly pulls off her cowl and sinks down to sit on the ground. Dick ends up practically in her lap, still hugging her tightly. “There was that weird rip and then it—it looked like it _ate_ you and you were gone! We couldn’t track you or anything!”

“I’m fine Dick.” Rachel whispers, holding her son close to her as she looks up at Alfred, who is standing near Rachel and Dick. “I… I got pulled into an alternate universe—there was another me there, another you and another Alfred.”

“How you’d get back?” Dick asks.

“Magic. There was another Zatanna and she found a spell to send me back where I belonged… was I gone for long?”

“Almost exactly one day.” Alfred replies. Rachel smiles at her oldest friend as she stands up, picking Dick up and moving closer to the Wayne Family Butler. “The Police believe that Batwoman simply left after helping to apprehend ‘Doctor Ray Divine’ and thankfully there were no matters which required the attention of Rachel Wayne during your absence.”

“That’s good.” Rachel sighs, hugging Dick a little tighter to her. Rachel is suddenly aware how tired  she is but right she doesn’t want to let go of her son—not after the reminder she’s just had of what she has lost. As she holds Dick Rachel thinks of the promise she made to the other universe’s Alfred Pennyworth… of her promise to tell Richard Grayson why the thought of being his mother terrifies her.

 

Alfred convinces Dick to help him make Rachel a sandwich, which gives Rachel an opportunity to change out of the Batsuit and clean herself up. She eats the sandwich the two have made for her and heads off to bed… only to have the door to her bedroom open mere seconds after she lies down. Dick peeks his head into the room and, with a smile on her face, Rachel pulls back the covers and gestures for Dick to come join her. Both Dick and Ace climb into bed with Rachel, Dick snuggling up against Rachel as Ace lies down on the bed just below Dick’s feet.

With her son and future sidekick in her arms, Rachel sleeps better then she has in years. She wakes when shortly before Dick does—his eyes slowly open and he look sup at Rachel. For some time the two just lie there, looking at each other and listening to the soft noises that Ace makes as he sleeps.

 “Rachel?” Dick asks, breaking the silence.

“Yes Dick?”

“Can I… is it all right if I call you mom?” He asks. “I mean—I understand if you don’t want me too, cause I’m not your real kid and—”

“Dick!” Rachel cuts the acrobat off with a smile. “I… I would love it if you called me mom. I just have to tell you something, so that you’ll understand…”

“Understand what?” Dick asks, scooting a little closer as Rachel finds herself fighting back tears.

“Superheroes get hurt, even Superman. I certainly get hurt and even though I’ll do my best to protect you, you’ll probably get hurt. Sometimes that will scare me more than it should.”

“Why would it scare you?” Dick asks blinking in confusion.

“Because I love you… and because several years ago, I lost my son.”

“Your son?”

“I was going to call him Thomas Henri Wayne—after my dad and his father.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Sorry for the delay. I just graduated College and have been trying to get a job now that I’ve moved back to California. I’ve also got like four other fanfics I’m working on and then I got hit by a huge writer’s block. I’ll try to get the next chapter out soon, since that next chapter will include a more in-depth explanation of the ending of this chapter.


	32. Lux Ex Tenebris

**_ Lux Ex Tenebris = Latin for “Light From Darkness” _ **

 

_ Rachel Wayne stands by Henri Ducard’s side, her hands folded behind her back. Behind her the members of the League of Shadows stand, men and women dressed entirely in black, their faces covered and their voices silent. Despite knowing that she has triumphed—that she has passed a great test and is victorious—Rachel feels sick to her stomach. There is a large smoking brazier in front of them, with a branding iron sticking out of the coals… Rachel has seen the mark of the League upon some of the teachers at the Monastery. It seems that they each chose where and how they would bear the mark—some have it branded upon their skin, others have it tattooed. Most carry the mark on their wrist or ankle, one young woman has it on the bottom of her foot. Henri’s mark is tattooed on his right shoulder—Rachel has not seen another member of the League with their mark in that place. _

_ Rachel is not sure how long they wait before Ra’s Al Ghul emerges from the shadows to stand next to the brazier. He stares at her for a second, before he uses the branding iron to stir the coals. As he stirs he speaks rapidly in what Rachel will learn is Urdu. Rachel’s gaze goes towards Henri as he translates for the leader of the League of Shadows… _

_ “You have purged your fear. You are ready to lead these men.” Ra’s Al Ghul holds up the branding iron, revealing the symbol that graces Henri’s shoulder and the necklace he gave her. “You are ready to become a member of the League of Shadows _ . _”_

_ Two members of the League step forward, dragging a man between them. Rachel recognizes him—not two weeks ago the man was brought into the Monastery in chains and imprisoned in a cage. A farmer who tried to take his neighbor’s land and became a murderer. _

_  “First you must demonstrate your commitment to justice.” Henri turns towards Rachel and offers her his sword as he translates Ra’s final command.  _

_ A shudder races down Rachel’s spine as she looks down at the prisoner—the man is shaking in terror, almost crying. _

_ “No.” Rachel looks straight at Ra’s Al Ghul. “I am not an executioner.” _

_ “Rachel, your compassion is a weakness that your enemies will not share.” Henri whispers as Ra’s Al Ghul watches silently. _

_ “That’s why it’s so important. It separates me from them.”  Rachel’s gaze goes back to the prisoner as Henri’s hand comes to rest on her shoulder. _

_ “You want to fight criminals.” Henri whispers. “This man is a murderer!” _

_ “This man should be tried.” _

_ “By whom? Corrupt bureaucrats? Criminals mock society’s laws—you know this better than most.” There is a pleading tone to Henri’s voice—but also a sad, disappointed one.“We cannot lead these men unless you are prepared to do what is necessary to defeat evil.” _

_ “Where would we be leading them?” Rachel isn’t sure who she is addressing the question to—Henri Ducard or Ra’s Al Ghul. _

_ “Gotham City.” Ra’s replies. “As Gotham City’s favorite son you will ideally placed to strike at the heart of criminality. Gotham’s time has come. Like Constantinople or Rome before it. It is beyond saving and must be allowed to die. This is the most important function of the League of Shadows. It is one we have preformed for centuries. Gotham must be destroyed.” _

_ “You can’t believe this.” Rachel turns towards Henri, her hands clenching into fists as he squeezes her shoulder. _

_ “Ra’s Al Ghul rescued us from the darkest corners of our own hearts.” Henri replies. “All he asks for in return is the courage to do what is necessary.” _

_ Rachel can feel her world crumbling around her. For three years the Monastery has been her home, for three years **Henri** has been her home. Part of her wants nothing more than to take up the sword and strike the man dead, to become a full member of the League of Shadows… to stay with Henri, to exchange the necklace for a wedding ring. _

_ “I will go back to Gotham. I will fight men like this—but I won’t be an executioner.” Rachel reaches up to place her hand on top of Henri’s. She can feel tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. _

_ “Rachel…” Henri holds the sword forward as Rachel’s hand slips off of his. “For your own sake, there is no turning back.” _

_ Rachel slowly breathes in and reaches out and takes the sword from Henri’s hands. Henri’s hand slips off her shoulder as Rachel steps forward and raises the sword. _

_ Part of her wants to obey—Ra’s Al Ghul gave her a purpose and gave her Henri. Henri helped to fill the void in her heart, helped to make her strong. Together the two men took a wounded, broken young woman and made her something… something different, something **more**. Henri once told her that, if she devoted herself to an ideal, then no one would be able to stop her. _

_ She is her father’s daughter, even if the last time Rachel said her own last name was over three years ago. So above her devotion to Ra’s—above even her devotion to Henri—she was devoted to an idea. She was devoted to justice. _

_ She strikes downwards, her blade misses the prisoner’s neck by inches. Instead she hits the branding iron, flipping it off the brazier. The white-hot iron arcs high into the air and tumbles into the area where the explosives are stored. For a second the entire room freezes and Rachel finds herself staring at Henri. _

_ “What are you doing?”He asks. _

_ “What is necessary beloved.”Rachel replied as she hit Henri with the flat of her sword and turned towards Ra’s, who had a Chinese sword in his hands. As Rachel crossed blades with the master of the League of Shadows, an explosion shook the entire Monastery, shooting out flaming debris from the explosives room. _

_ The smoke hurts her eyes and throat, she is still sick to her stomach and she can barely see Ra’s through the smoke… but while Ra’s is formidable he is not superhuman. He is only highly skilled and Rachel is certain that she has fought tougher opponents—in fact she is certain that **Henri** was more skilled then Ra’s. _

_ Rachel does not want to kill Ra’s… and in the end she does not have to—a flaming slab of the roof falls in front of her, burying Ra’s Al Ghul beneath it. _

_ The entire Monastery is burning… and Henri is lying unconscious on the floor behind Rachel. The members of the League are fleeing, paying no attention to Rachel as they run to escape the flames and the explosions which continue to shake the Monastery. Without thinking Rachel hoists Henri into a fireman’s carry and runs towards the only escape route which is not blocked off by flames. She jumps and lands with a jolt and a soft cry of pain. _

_ As she lands Henri’s unconscious form slips from her grasp and tumbles towards a four-hundred-foot drop on to the glacier. Rachel grabs Henri’s hand and digs the scallops on her gauntlet into the ice mere inches from the edges of the cliff. _

_ Henri is still unconscious when Rachel reaches the village half-way down the mountain. From the moment she had taken hold of the sword, Rachel had known that she would have to leave Henri. Although she still loved him—although a part of her would always love him—Rachel knew that she needed to go back to Gotham and fight to save her city… the city Ra’s Al Ghul had decided to destroy. _

_ So she had left Henri Ducard with a peasant family, with nothing but a small scrap of wood with the words “I love you” carved upon it and the peasant’s word that he would tell Henri she’d saved his life. _

_ Rachel Wayne came down from the mountain two years and eleven months after she had climbed up it with nothing but a blue flower in her pocket and rags from a Chinese prison on her back. She came down wearing the uniform of the League of Shadows, with Henri Ducard’s sword in her hands and the necklace he gave her hidden underneath her clothing. _

_ Unbeknownst to her, when Rachel came down from the mountain she was at least four months pregnant with Thomas Henri Wayne. _

 

**_ “…several years ago, I lost my son.” _ **

Rachel doesn’t elaborate and Dick doesn’t ask for anything more than the knowledge that his foster mom lost a son who she would have named Thomas after her father and Henri after the child’s father. Dick simply cuddles closer to her and smiles when Alfred brings them breakfast in bed. Nothing changes—except for the fact that Dick Grayson now calls her mom and will now hug her when she isn’t expecting any such show of affection… Alfred may smile a bit more, or it may just be Rachel’s imagination.

Three days after her return from the alternate universe, Rachel does out to her child’s grave, only to find Dick sitting underneath the weeping willow on the west side of Wayne Manor.

 

_ The first time Batwoman met Jonathan Crane—who still accepted his own name, who had not yet become the villain known as the Scarecrow, although he had started down the path which lead to a padded cell in Arkham Asylum—she had been unprepared for the effects of a highly concentrated dose of Fear Toxin. _

_ Batwoman had been forced to flee as she lost her grip on what was real and what was—what **had** to be—illusion and the gas that Crane had sprayed her with. She had fled from Crane—whom the toxin had turned into a deformed monster coughing up live bats—and after he lit her on fire, Batwoman had fallen two stories, landing on an abandoned car. The rain had put out the flames, but with every breath she took the illusions got worse and it got harder to breathe. It had taken every ounce of strength she possessed to make her way to an alley and summon Alfred before the nightmares consumed her… _

_ She’d seen bats—screeching, screaming and tearing at her suit, her hair and her skin. She could feel the blood that was pouring down her body from the bites and scratches the flying rodents had inflicted upon her.  _

_ Part of her had been dimly aware of Alfred pulling her into the car—but most of her was concerned with the fact that the bats followed her. They wouldn’t leave her alone, they wouldn’t stop screaming and swarming around her… when a pure empty expanse of darkness swallowed her Rachel could have sobbed in relief. _

_ Waking had felt like she was slowly floating up towards the surface of a deep pool filled with ice cold water. Her entire body had hurt and she’d been too weak to move—simply breathing had been enough of a challenge… after what felt like an eternity she managed to pull together enough strength to open her eyes. _

_ She was lying in the bed of the master bedroom of Wayne Manor, a room which Rachel had never slept in because she had always considered it her parent’s room. Alfred sitting on the edge of her bed, holding her hand in between his own. The moment that Rachel saw her oldest friend’s face she should have known that something was horribly wrong—but she had assumed the sadness in Alfred’s eyes was due to her being unconscious for several days. _

_ “How long was I out?” It had hurt to talk and the moment she did Alfred’ grip on her hand tightened. She thought briefly about trying to sit up before deciding it probably wouldn’t be worth it. _

_ “Two days. It’s…” Alfred stammered and paused to take a deep breath. “It’s first of May.” _

_ “Happy birthday to me.” Rachel laughed only to wince in pain. _

_ “Many happy returns.” Alfred replied in a whisper. _

_ “I’ve felt these effects before…” Rachel used as her gaze drifted down to her and Alfred’s hands. “But this was much more potent… some kind of hallucinogen, weaponized in aerosol form.” _

_ “I called Mr. Fox when… when your condition worsened on the first day.” Alfred explain, briefly glancing over his shoulder at the door to the master bedroom. “He managed to create an antidote.” _

_ “Then I need to talk to him—I’ll need more to take down…” Rachel trailed off as she stared at Alfred, who couldn’t quite meet her gaze. “Alfred—what aren’t you telling me?” _

_ “On the first day I had to call Lucius when…” Alfred paused, staring at Rachel for a second. “Rachel, did you know you were pregnant?” _

_ She hadn’t—and there had been no time to see Thomas, no time to hold her son... all Rachel had time to do was take a shower and break down in solitude before she had to put on her public face and start attending to her birthday party guests… but even that bit of mindless duty, which would have given Rachel time to at least feel numb, was denied her. Bruce Dawes had gone into the Narrows, into Arkham Asylum and Batwoman had followed her childhood friend, bringing her back into close quarters with the Scarecrow and dousing Bruce with the same toxin which had almost killed Rachel. _

_ She left Bruce in Alfred’s capable hands and had pulled on the mask of “Rachel Wayne, Billionaire” so that she could smile at her guests… Wayne Manor was full of men and women who didn’t actually care about her. They were present for the glamour, for the chance to be seen, for the fourteen-piece orchestra, the waiters in bowties and the chance to rub elbows with Rachel Wayne—Gotham’s Princess and most eligible Bachelorette. _

_ Despite how broken she was inside, Rachel had managed to keep up her cheerful, slightly vapid exterior… _ _she’d talked with William Earle without him catching on to the fact that **she** was the one buying up shares of Wayne Enterprises and told Lucius Fox to start mass producing the antidote to Crane’s toxin on as large a scale as he could._

_ “Rachel!” An elderly women in a strapless gown and a lot of makeup grabbed her arm and pulled her to one side of the room. “There’s somebody here you simply **must** meet…” _

_ Rachel had found herself dragged towards an older man with a shaved head who was looking away from her and her elderly captor, out of curiosity Rachel looked where the man was looking, wondering what he saw that was so interesting, as the woman introduced the man she “had” to meet. _

_ “Now am I pronouncing it right… Mr. Razzall Gool?” _

_ The blood ran cold in Rachel’s veins as the man turned to face them… but he was not Ra’s Al Ghul, although he wore the blue flower in the buttonhole of his suit. He stared at Rachel as she glared at him. _

_ “You’re no Ra’s Al Ghul.” She whispered as the woman who had introduced them was distracted by something off to the side. “I watched him die.” _

_ “But is Ra’s Al Ghul immortal?” A shiver raced down Rachel’s spine as someone whispered into her ear—Rachel knew exactly who the whisperer was before she turned to face him. _

_ Henri Ducard stood next to Rachel, dressed in a black tuxedo and leaning on a polished ebony cane. He was smiling slightly. “Are his methods supernatural?” _

_ “Or are they cheap parlor tricks to conceal your true identity… Ra’s.” It felt like someone had stabbed her in the back. She had been in love with a lie—or at the very least she had been in love with a half-truth. But even though the evidence was staring her right in the face, Rachel’s mind refused to accept it—she couldn’t combine Henri Ducard, the man she had loved, the father of her child, with Ra’s Al Ghul, the man who wanted to destroy her beloved Gotham. _

_ Henri—Ra’s—her mind can’t decided what to call him—nods in acknowledgement of his name. It feels like the world should change in some measurable way… but the murmur of the crowd of guests continues and the orchestra continues to play. _

_ “Surely a woman who spends her nights scrambling over the rooftops of Gotham wouldn’t begrudge me duel identities?” Ra’s asks, elegantly raising one eyebrow. _

_ “A woman who loved you and was lied to would.” Rachel replies. “I saved you from the fire.” _

_ “That is why I am giving you a second chance.” Henri whispers, holding his hand out to Rachel. “Join me, beloved.” _

_ Rachel turns away from the man she loved, the man whom part of her **still** loves and looks at her guests. _

_ “Whatever my answer is… your quarrel is with me.” Rachel replies as she turns back towards Ra’s Al Ghul. “Let these people go and we will talk.” _

_ “You are welcome to explain the situation to them.” _

_ Rachel nods and steps forward, grabbing a drink from a passing waitress and taking a single sip before splashing the rest on herself. _

_ She is not entirely aware of what she says to the crowd… she is only aware that most of what she said was true. Her mind is racing, not concentrating on clearing the Manor—instead her mind is focused on a small child tucked away in a bedroom upstairs. As the last guest leaves the Manor and the members of the League of Shadows which Henri has brought with him secure the area Rachel turns back towards the father of her child. _

_ “Quite a performance.” Ra’s Al Ghul remarks as he looks around the now empty ballroom. “But pointless in the end. None of these people have long to live—your antics at the asylum have forced my hand.” _

_ “Crane was working with you?” Rachel finds herself wondering if this is what going mad feels like… like everything is slowly slipping away from you and all you can do is scream. It feels like some large WARNING sign or light or **something** should be flashing and an alarm should be shrieking. _

_ She’d felt the effects of Crane’s toxin before… the little blue flower which she’d carried up the mountain. The flower Henri had crushed and burned for her final test… that was the source of the toxin… all Crane had done was refine what the League had already been using, make it more potent, make it into a more efficient weapon. _

_ But the straw that breaks the camel’s back is when Henri nods, when he acknowledges that Crane **was** working for the League, for Ra’s Al Ghul, for **him**.  _

_ The man she loves, the father of her child… is the man responsible for the toxin which killed their child, the toxin which took Rachel’s son away from her before she even knew he existed, before she knew that he could be lost. _

_ “I was pregnant.” Rachel whispers as her legs go out from under her, like she’s a puppet and her stings have been cut. Henri catchers her before she can fall and the two sink to kneel on the floor as tears start to fall from Rachel’s eyes. “Five, maybe six months along. I didn’t—I didn’t know. I bet Crane didn’t know that his toxin could make someone miscarry.” _

_ Rachel finds herself resting her head on Henri’s shoulder. She is keenly aware of the necklace that swings in the space between them and Henri’s arms that wrap around her. She forces herself to pull back, to hold up her head so she can look Henri in the eye. _

_ “I lost a son… I lost **our** son.” Rachel sobs, her body feeling like it is just one large open wound. “And you know the best part? Today’s my birthday.” _

_ “Rachel…” Henri pulls Rachel against him once more as she sobs. It feels like she has been broken into a hundred tiny pieces which have been scattered to the corners of the earth. She is dimly aware that Ra’s Al Ghul is barking orders to the League in a language she does not know. _

_ “I shall take care of this beloved…” Henri whispers into her ear as he stands, picking Rachel up as if she weighs nothing at all. She can’t find the energy to fight, so instead she curls up against the man she once thought was her future. She is leaning against his shoulder, and through her hair, which shrouds her face like a veil, she can see Alfred, walking between two members of the League. _

_ “I will cleanse this city for you beloved.” Henri promises as he places her gently upon a soft bed. “Crane will pay for harming you, as Chao-xing paid for attempting to take your life… rest now beloved.” _

_ Through half-closed eyes Rachel glances up at Henri—or is he Ra’s Al Ghul? It’s hard for her to tell the difference between the man’s two personas. It’s not as hard as acknowledging that the two are truly one would be—it is easier to think of them as two personalities, two different yet similar people residing in the same body. She feels Alfred gently wrap his arms around her as Henri leaves the room, closing the doors behind him. _

_ Rachel doesn’t know how long she lies in Alfred’s arms, her face washed with tears, her body wracked with sobs… she does not know how long Alfred speaks to her, trying to pull her out of the despair and grief. What she does know is that the words which wake her are not her own, or even Alfred’s—the words that wake her, the words that make the tears stop, the words that remind her she is a force that can not be stopped are her father’s. _

**_ Why do we fall, Rachel? _ **

_ She is not sure if Alfred says those words, or if she simply remembers them on her own. _

**_ Why do we fall, Rachel? _ **

_ She doesn’t know if the words repeat themselves in the real world or just in her mind… but she knows the answer and she knows what she has to do. _

_ “ **So we can learn to pick ourselves up.** ” _

_ Henri Ducard may be the father of Rachel Wayne’s child, but that does not mean that Batwoman is going to allow Ra’s Al Ghul to destroy Gotham. Rachel Wayne is not her father, she is not as good as Thomas Wayne was… but she has the training, she has the will to act and she knows that it is not who she is underneath, but what she does that defines who she is. _

_ So Batwoman goes to confront Ra’s Al Ghul. Batwoman goes to save Gotham from the League of Shadows and perhaps, in the process, find a way to save it from itself… and against all odds she succeeds—against all odds Batwoman and the man who will one day become Commissioner manage not to stop the train, but to derail it. _

_ In his own way her son helps—Ra’s Al Ghul may be the leader of the League of Shadows and a fearsome fighter, but even he finds it hard to fight the woman who could have been his wife and his son’s mother. _

 

Richard Grayson is sitting on the grass under the weeping willow, just in front of the stone bench. One of his hands is resting on the slab of marble that marks the places where Thomas Henri Wayne is buried. There is a small bouquet of flowers lying on the stone near Dick’s hand—flowers that appear to have come from the Wayne gardens.

“I’m sorry that you never got to meet her… or me.” Dick is talking to no one and does not seem to be aware that Rachel is present. “Rachel’s a really great mom and a hero too... We’re going to fight crime together and keep the world safe. Don’t worry, I promise that I’ll take care of her for you.”

Rachel smiles and steps forward, stepping on a twig that snaps and draws Dick’s attention to her. She smiles at her son as she walks over and sits down on the stone bench.

“Who were you talking to?” She asks as Dick sits down next to her.

“Thomas.” Dick replies, leaning against her side. “He helped me figure out what I want to be called—you know my ‘superhero name’.”

“Oh, and what is that?”

“Robin.” Dick replies. “My mom used to say that I was her little Robin.”

“Batwoman and Robin?” Rachel asks, testing the name out. “I like it. I think Lucius has the modifications for your armor ready, so all we have to do is figure out colors and then get you used to the suit.”

“We can do robin colors right? Like red and yellow and green?”

“We should be able to… not bright colors and perhaps a black cape to help you blend in at night.” Rachel muses. “We’ll figure something out… now what do you want to do for your birthday tomorrow?”

 

 

_ Author’s Note: I actually did a bunch of reading/info gathering for this bit. Rachel was either late in her 5th month or early in her 6th month when the Fear Toxin caused her to miscarry. At that point you can determine the sex of the fetus. [This ](http://health.msn.com/pregnancy/slideshow.aspx?cp-documentid=100182842&imageindex=5)is what a 5th month old fetus looks like. _

_ As for Rachel not knowing she was pregnant… it’s easier to miss then you’d think. Some people only gain 5/10 pounds during their entire pregnancy, some people may even loose weight. Often professional athletes will have irregular menstrual cycles, so it wouldn’t freak Batwoman out that badly/at all. There are also numerous examples of people not knowing they were pregnant until they are actually in labor. Here are two links: [LINK I](http://bodyodd.msnbc.msn.com/_news/2009/09/30/4380017-congratulations-that-stomach-cramp-is-a-full-term-baby) & [LINK II](http://www.parenting.com/article/didnt-know-i-was-pregnant) _


	33. Rara Avis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rara Avis = Latin for “A rare bird, an extraordinary/unusual thing”

Rachel had fully expected that designing the artistic side of Dick’s suit would take longer then designing the functional side. After all, the name “Robin” brought to mind bright colors, which wouldn’t really be practical on the dark streets of Gotham. Anyone who wanted to fight alongside Batwoman would need to be able to blend into the shadows at least as well as the Dark Knight did and Rachel’s desire to protect Dick meant that she’d prefer he actually blend in _better._ Rachel had expected that Dick would come up with an outfit which would be more appropriate for Superman’s sidekick, or the Flash’s… but instead the last Flying Grayson had come up with a design that needed surprisingly little modification. In fact what little changes Rachel and Dick make to his original design are functional designs necessitated by the suit which Lucius Fox creates for Dick.

From the start Dick’s Robin suit is based off of Rachel’s Batwoman suit. The design starts with the current Batwoman suit and the first changes are “updates”—new tech which hasn’t yet been incorporated into the Batwoan suit. This leads to a first version of the suit, which Dick can try out and which can be modified so that a design for a more permanent suit can be created by Dick, Rachel and Lucius.

One of the first modifications the three make is to decrease the number of carbon fiber reinforcement plates, the parts of the suit which most actively protect the wearer while providing more freedom of movement then the original Batwoman suit. The first design of the suit—the one based off of the Batwoman suit—had been too heavy and too restrictive for the young acrobat.

When the number of plates is reduced and the arrangement changed slightly Robin can move more quickly, can dart in and strike before retreating to a safe distance without being burdened by his suit. While the plates still do provide a good level of protection against knives and bullets Rachel is uneasy with the trade off… it isn’t until they make the changes to the prototype suit and Robin manages to (briefly) gain the underhand on Batwoman in a practice fight that Rachel accepts the loss of those plates. This doesn’t stop her from worrying about Dick being stabbed, shot or just plain old getting hurt while at her side… but there isn’t really anything that _could_ stop her from worrying, even if Dick suddenly gained Superman like invulnerability.

It takes Dick a great deal long to convince Rachel that he doesn’t need to have a cowl. Although it is clear from the moment that Dick puts on the first version of his suit that the weight and the mere presence of the cowl throws Dick off, she keeps the cowl as part of Robin’s suit until the very last possible moment. Although she has horrible mental images of someone shooting her son eventually Rachel is forced to acknowledge that, in reality, even her cowl probably wouldn’t do much to protect her from a bullet. So instead of a cowl Robin gets a slightly stylized domino mask, which ends up looking somewhat like a stretched out batarang.

But even with all the changes what really sets Dick’s Robin suit apart from Rachel’s Batwoman suit are the colors, specifically three colors: green, red and yellow. All three colors are dark and somewhat dull, which enables Robin to better blend in with the Gotham night. Robin’s boots, legs and arms are green, while his chest is a dark red. Like Batwoman, Robin’s belt is a sort of golden bronze color with several pouches and the most powerful tracking device known to man (and the Justice League) concealed inside. Another two tracking devices, twins to the one in Robin’s belt, sit in the heels of Robin’s boots… just in case.

On the chest of Robin’s suit, on the left hand side, a yellow stylized “R” sits on top of a black bat symbol which is outlined in the same yellow as the letter. Like Batwoman Robin has a cape, which can be turned into a glider. Robin’s cape is shorter then Batwoman’s—it only reaches the top of his boots while Rachel’s goes down to her ankles. Despite the reduced length the cape can still practically close up in the front if Robin stands still, enhancing his ability to blend into the Gotham night… however the inside of the cape is the same dull yellow as the R on his chest.

When Dick Grayson puts on the “final” version of his suit for the first time—in the safety of the Batcave with Rachel Wayne and Alfred Pennyworth watching—the first thing he does is smile. After a second’s hesitation, during which Dick never stops smiling, the young man runs over to the mats where he and Rachel practice fighting and, after stretching, starts to do flips. After managing to do some ridiculously complicated and fast back flip without being thrown off by the weight of his suit or getting caught on his cape, he actually lets out a whoop of victory.

The first time Rachel had put on the complete Batsuit she hadn’t had a smile on her face and hadn’t made a single sound as she practiced. Now that she looks at Dick Grayson stepping into the role of Robin Rachel can’t help but smile. As Dick practices and gets used to his suit she quickly changes into the Batsuit. Alfred watches as, for the first time, Batwoman and Robin work out in costume.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Three weeks later the Tumbler leaves the Batcave with Batwoman behind the wheel and a very excited Robin sitting in the passenger seat. Alfred Pennyworth remains in the Cave, but his presence can almost be felt over the com link, despite the fact that he is silently watching, listening and hoping that everything goes all right on Dick Grayson’s first night out.

It’s extremely strange for Rachel to look over at the passenger seat of the Tumbler and see Dick sitting there—all suited up, with a huge grin on his face. It’s… well it feels good, but at the same time terrifying. After all she is taking a child— _her son_ —out onto the streets of Gotham to fight crime.

Batwoman and Robin leave the Tumbler near Police Headquarters and, after a final pause to review once again the mechanics of Robin’s grappling hook and cape, the two start moving across the rooftops of Gotham. Batwoman isn’t surprised that Robin is a natural at moving across the city—after all Dick Grayson has been “flying” since he could walk. What does surprise her is how focused Dick remains—he stays slightly behind and to her left and while he is smiling so widly that his face looks like it might crack, the young boy remains silent.

Batwoman and Robin are heading towards a warehouse owned by Wayne Enterprises, which a certain group of criminals are planning on robbing of a prototype which certain rival companies (such as LuthorCorp) would love to get their hands on. The planned heist is relatively simple and should be a good “first fight” for Robin… the key word being _should_.

In Gotham nothing is certain except, perhaps, for taxes. Death isn’t certain—after all the evidence points towards Solomon Grundy originally being buried in Gotham. Taxes can, strangely enough, be counted on more than almost anything else in the dark city. However the one time that the police tried to use charges of tax evasion to bring down a Mob Family—a la Al Capone—they’d found that the crook in question had paid exactly the right amount of taxes for his income, even if no one could say where that income had originally come from.

The point is that very few things are certain in Gotham, even if you’re Batwoman. Plans fall apart or shatter into a million pieces and all that can be counted on is that things can—and will—get worse. Often all you can hope for is that things go worse for your adversaries then they do for you. So it makes sense for Rachel to be _extremely_ concerned about Dick Grayson’s first night out as Robin. In fact Rachel is so concerned that she had actually considered taking Dick to some other city for some sort of “trial run”.

However, in her heart and soul, Rachel knows that leaving Gotham, even for a “trial run” isn’t an option. Robin may not technically exist but already he is a product of Gotham, just as Batwoman is and always has been. It wouldn’t be right or proper for Robin’s first night out to occur anywhere other than Gotham.

As Matches Malone the Dark Knight learned that five members of a minor mob family were planning to steal the prototype. It hadn’t taken much snooping to learn the specifics of the five men’s plan, which was rather straightforward—wait until the prototype was loaded on to a truck and then take control of said truck. The planned heist is perfect for Robin’s first night out—a small group of “ordinary” criminals, a secluded area that the two can scope out before hand and, perhaps most importantly, numerous escape routes if anything goes wrong.

By the time Batwoman and Robin reach their destination—the rooftop of a building that overlooks the warehouse and loading bay where the mobsters plan to strike—Dick is practically vibrating with energy. Despite this Robin remains silent as he and Batwoman keep watch for the mobsters, each focusing on one of the two possible routes that the five men can take. When he spots the criminal’s car Robin silently alerts Batwoman and the two focus on the five criminals, who exit their car and start sneaking towards the unsuspecting Wayne employees.

After what seems like hours—but is in reality only a few minutes—two of the five mobsters pull out guns and alert the Wayne employees to their presence. Batwoman moves without thinking, tossing a batarang seconds before leaping off the roof. It takes her a second to realize that—without having been told to—Robin has done the exact same thing.

Batwoman and Robin land, seconds apart and side by side in the midst of the five criminals. As they land the batarangs impact with the guns, forcing the two men to drop their weapons. Batwoman kicks the guns away as Robin lashes out at one of the crooks, who had been trying to draw his pistol out from it’s shoulder holster. The man ends up flat on his back, gasping in pain and staring up in surprise and shock at Robin. Before the other mobsters can really do much of anything Batwoman attacks and, almost instantly, Robin is at her side—kicking and punching.

There is room, of course, for improvement. Robin and Batwoman still have much to learn about each other’s fighting styles and there is still a difference in the pace the two fight at… but in it’s own way the fight is perfect and the two are perfect for each other. Robin fills a hole Batwoman hadn’t even been aware of. He watches her back and she watches his, if one of her blows doesn’t land quite right Robin is seconds behind her, ready to finish the job… and if Robin can’t land a blow with enough force, Batwoman is ready to follow up with a more powerful punch or kick.

All too quickly the fight is over. The five mobsters are sitting or lying on the ground, handcuffed and waiting for the police, whose sirens can be heard in the distance. The three Wayne Enterprises employees who had been the mobsters target are staring in shock at Batwoman and Robin… well mostly the three men are staring at Robin, since most Gothamites have at least caught a glimpse of Batwoman by now.

As the police sirens move closer and closer Batwoman leads Robin away, up to the roof where they’d first spotted the mobsters. As the police arrive on the scene Robin turns towards Batwoman and smiles widely. Rachel replies with a small pleased smile and—after a second’s hesitation—she reaches out and hugs Dick.

“Good job.” Rachel whispers as, on the ground below them, police being hauling mobsters away and taking statements from the three Wayne Enterprises witnesses.

“So what now?” Dick asks, his smile only growing as he remains in Rachel’s arms, the cloak of the Batsuit wrapping around the two of them.

“The night is still young… we’ll go on a patrol before we head home.” Rachel replies. “And then tomorrow we’ll see what the world has to say.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The patrol which follows is quiet and mostly uneventful. They take down two men who were trying to rob a small jewelry store and Robin waits on a nearby rooftop while Batwoman puts the fear of the Dark Knight in a John who has been a little rough with several working girls. On the way back to the Tumbler the two encounter a mugger, whom Robin takes out while Batwoman watches from the sidelines.

Throughout the entire night Alfred remains a silent presence on the other end of their comlink and, when Batwoman and Robin return to the Cave and pull off their suits to become Rachel Wayne and Dick Grayson, the butler has hot chocolate and carrot cake waiting for them. They eat in front of the Cave’s computer while they review the night’s events and start to plan Dick’s next outing.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The next morning finds Rachel and Dick—one holding a cup of coffee, the other a cup of hot chocolate with mini-marshmallows—reading the morning papers together and occasionally pausing to giggle like a pair of schoolgirls. The newspapers apparently don’t know what to make of Robin… of course they don’t know his name, but they also aren’t sure if he’s actually a boy.

This does make sense—after all the newspapers had assumed that Batwoman was a man for quite a while and Rachel supposes that it’s harder to tell pre-pubescent boys apart from girls. So while most of the papers have started calling Dick “Batboy” there are one or two who have decided to call him “Batgirl”. However The Daily Planet, perhaps due to Lois’ involvement with the papers finally figuring out that Batman was actually Batwoman, has decided to call Dick “Batkid”.

Of course none of the papers have a photograph of Robin. One or two have pulled out their standard, go-to photo of Batwoman or the Batsignal, and one has an artist’s rendering of the “mysterious young hero” which makes Dick look like he’s five years old. As Rachel and Dick finish with the papers Alfred has begun flicking through the various TV News and Morning shows, which are making use of the Wayne Enterprise security camera footage which is just being released. Only one of the reporters notices the “R” on Robin’s suit and starts throwing out suggestions for what it could stand for. His guess include Renegade, Rebel, Rebellion and, after a few seconds hesitation, Rascal.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Within a few days of his first outing Dick Grayson is going out as Robin practically every night. Together Batwoman and Robin will leave the cave, although usually Dick ends up going home with Alfred in one of the more “pedestrian” Wayne car while Rachel stays out on the streets. Although Dick is being homeschooled by Alfred he is still only eleven years old and thus needs more sleep then Rachel. The reporters haven’t gotten any closer to guessing Robin’s name. Most seem to have decided that the most logical name for Batwoman’s sidekick is “Renegade”… for some reason that Rachel, Dick and Alfred can’t quite figure out.

During all of this publicity the Justice League has remained silent—or at least appeared to remain silent. Rachel doesn’t doubt that she and Dick are the talk of the Watchtower, but despite this there haven’t been any attempts by League members to communicated with her, either alone or as a group. Rachel suspects this is due to the fact that Superman is off world… after all it seems that Clark has become the unofficial liaison between Batwoman and the Justice League.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Dick has been Robin for two weeks, the Justice League is still silent and Superman is still off world when Batwoman and Robin decide that it’s time someone outside of Wayne Manor met the Dark Knight’s sidekick… although Dick’s decision is largely based on the fact that he’s tired of people calling him by the wrong name.

On the night in question Gotham is unseasonably warm and strangely damp, despite the fact that it isn’t raining and hasn’t rained for several days. On the outskirts of town an abandoned warehouse—an _actual_ abandoned warehouse, not a “secretly used for criminal activities” abandoned warehouse—has caught fire and is in the process of burning to the ground.

In Gotham, on the roof of Police Headquarters, Commissioner James Gordon stands next to the Batsignal, which is no illuminated. In his hands is a cup of coffee, already half-gone. The night is silent, save for the distant wail of fire and police sirens from the warehouse fire and the wind whipping around the surrounding buildings.

Gordon’s gaze is fixed upon the surrounding rooftops, trying to spot Batwoman. He’d received a message from the Dark Knight earlier that night, just as the last traces of sunlight were bleeding out of the darkening sky. The message had been short, simply giving Gordon a time and a place— _Batsignal, 11:30_. James Gordon doesn’t really know what to expect from the coming meeting… usually when Batwoman wants to meet face to face it is because she has evidence to turn over or needs to form a strategy with the Commissioner. So James Gordon would assume that Batwoman had evidence or questions for him, but a little over a week ago the Dark Knight started being seen with a young boy fighting alongside her…

With a sigh Gordon abandons his search of the nearby rooftops to chuck his now empty coffee cup in a trashcan that had been placed on the roof after officers starting taking lunch breaks near the Batsignal. As he turns back towards the powerful light Gordon hears a soft rustling noise—a sound not unlike that made by a flag shifting in a weak wind. It’s a sound he’s learned to recognize in his time fighting crime in Gotham… it’s the sound of a cape.

Commissioner Gordon looks up and, despite being prepared to see Batwoman standing on the rooftop, finds himself freezing in place. Yes, Batwoman is standing on the rooftop of Police Headquarters… but sitting on the ledge that runs around the edge of the roof, swinging his legs back and forth, is a young boy with messy black hair and a suit that is not unlike Batwoman’s, but is a great deal more colorful.

“Good evening Commissioner.” Batwoman remains still as she speaks, while the boy stretches, revealing that his black cape is lined with yellow and all but showing off the stylized yellow R that is emblazoned on his chest. “I’d like you to meet someone.”

“Your new sidekick?” Gordon asks, stepping forward as the boy all but jumps to his feet and smiles widely at the Commissioner.

“I prefer assistant.” The boy replies, holding out his hand so that Gordon can shake it.

“Commissioner Gordon, this is Robin.” Batwoman remains still, her cape shifting slightly in the wind.

“Like the bird?”

“Bats aren’t the only things that fly.” Robin replies as he releases Gordon’s hand and moves back so that he is once more standing at the Dark Knight’s side.

“Batwoman trained you?” Gordon asks the two, who both nod. After a seconds hesitation Gordon sighs. “I can’t say I’m a fan of this… but I’ll see about getting some sort of press release indicating that the Police will work with Batwoman _and_ Robin.”

“Thank you.” Batwoman nods again.

“Then people can stop making weird guesses about my name.” Robin whispers, which actually draws a smirk from the stoic Dark Knight, who finally moves—reaching into a pouch on her belt and pulling out a USB flash drive, which she offers to Gordon.

“What’s this?”

“Including the warehouse tonight, there have been three fires in the past week, each one involving ‘empty’ buildings.” Batwoman explains. “Each building has been owned by what appears, on the surface, to be a different company.”

“However all those companies are owned by one called ‘Ombre Enterprises’.”

“So it’s some sort of insurance scam?” Gordon asks as he pockets the flash drive.

“Partially.” Robin explains. “There were two previous fires we can connect to the three this week.”

“Of the five fires two were ‘historic’ buildings which by law couldn’t be demolished.” Batwoman adds. “Ombre Enterprises owns an additional two historic buildings in very profitable locations.”

“So they’re burning down the others to make us think we’ve just got a pyromaniac.” Gordon sighs, his gaze darting back to the distant fire. “Do you know whose behind Ombre—”

Commissioner Gordon cuts himself off as he realizes that both Batwoman and Robin have managed to slip away without him noticing, despite the fact that he had been able to see them out of the corner of his eye.

 

_Author’s Note:  Robin’s suit is based off of[this fanart](http://qbatmanp.deviantart.com/art/The-Dark-Knight-x-Robin-3-174448135?q=gallery%3Aqbatmanp%2F5115392&qo=24), but without the black on the body and with a yellow inside to the cape, like in Batman The Animated Series._


	34. Felix Natalis Diem

 

 

_Felix Natalis Diem = Latin for “Happy Birthday”_

 

The first day of May—May Day—is traditionally considered the first day of summer. All over the world people gather to celebrate the coming warmth and the vanishing of winter… but in Gotham there is another celebration which falls on the first of May and never fails to draw the attention of the rich, the famous, the press and even the so called “ordinary people”. That celebration is the birthday of Gotham’s Princess, Rachel Antonietta Wayne.

In recent years the attention lavished upon Rachel Wayne and her birthday has been due to the young woman’s wealth and the influence she managed to wield. However the press had been running features on Rachel’s birthday ever since the death of Thomas and Martha Wayne. Even _The Daily Planet_ had run a photograph on Rachel’s first birthday after her parents’ death… some reporter had managed to find the sad little nine year old girl sitting at a fancy restaurant with Alfred Pennyworth at her side and William Earle sitting across the table from the orphan and the Wayne Family Buler.

But now Rachel Wayne is twenty-five years old and, in honor of the occasion, Wayne Manor’s ballroom has been decorated in gold, silver and black. Waiters and waitresses in black pants and pristine white shirts carry silver trays of drinks and golden trays of appetizers through the crowd of guests. Roughly half of the Gotham Philharmonic Orchestra is present, playing a waltz for the guests to dance to. Around the edges of the room several tables have been set up, some for guests to sit at and some for appetizers and drinks.

The wealth and fame of not only Gotham, but of Metropolis, New York and several other cities is present in the ancestral home of the Wayne Family. Lex Luthor stands among a crowd of admirers near the bar, a glass of red wine in his right hand and a smirk on his face. Across the room from Luthor’s group Oliver Queen is dancing with a young New York socialite while Commissioner James Gordon awkwardly dances with his wife—it’s an open secret that the two are in the process of getting a divorce, something which has been brewing since the Gordons encounter with Hannah Dent. Across the room from the Gordons, at a table in a corner, Lucius Fox and Ted Kord are deep in conversation over several paper napkins with equations scribbled on them. Strangely enough the handsome blond man who arrived at the party with Ted—the one whom everyone wrote off as “arm candy”—seems to be actively involved in Ted and Lucius’ conversation and napkin scribbling.

Among the wealthy, famous and influential guests at Rachel’s party there is a  small group of reporters who come not only from Gotham, but from New York, Metropolis, Star City—there are even two from San Francisco. The reporters stick together in groups, almost like schools of small fish surrounded by predators… with one exception. Clark Kent stands alone among the wealthy and powerful guests, silently observing the revelry around him. The Last Son of Krypton hadn’t planned on attending the Dark Knigth’s birthday party, since Cat Grant was the Society Reporter for _The Daily Planet_ and Lois Lane tended to be the go-to reporter if Cat couldn’t attend a function. However Cat Grant’s gossip column tended to alienate anyone she wrote about (and she’d written about Rachel many, _many_ times) and Lois had managed to get picked for jury duty, leaving Perry to send Clark to Gotham to represent the Planet.

As one waltz ends and another begins Clark Kent slowly moves through the guests his eyes scanning the crowd of expensive suits and dresses for the birthday girl and her young ward. This May Day will be Clark’s first chance to meet Richard Grayson—in either of their respected identities. Clark had planned on meeting “Dick” Grayson even before the young boy had stepped out into the Gotham night as Robin, although the League’s concerns about such a young boy becoming a hero had made that meeting a certainty. Not only was Batwoman not _technically_ a member of the Justice League but Clark was the only one (except for possibly the Question) who knew her identity… so of course almost every single member of the League who had seen any sort of news report about Robin had asked Clark for either information or for Clark to look into the situation in Gotham.

Clark had planned on talking with Batwoman almost two months ago… but it seemed like the entire galaxy had been deadest on keeping Superman running around like crazy—first his meeting had been delayed by events in Metropolis, then events across the world and finally a call for aid from the Green Lantern Corps. In between all of these events Kal-El had found himself scrambling to create excuses for  where Clark Kent had been and actually exhausted for the first time in many years…

“Hello Clark.” A very familiar voice practically purrs in Clark’s ear, drawing him out of his thoughts as a gentle hand comes to rest on his shoulder.

As Clark turns to face her Rachel’s hand slips off his shoulder, but the Billionaire does not step away from him—which leaves the two of them standing somewhat awkwardly close together in the middle of the bustling room. The birthday girl is wearing a black draping halter dress, where the two parts of the halter top twist around each other at the base of Rachel’s neck before looping around her shoulders and forming a sort of belt at Rachel’s waist, leaving her dress without a real back.

Rachel’s hair hangs loose and, on either side of her head, just above her ears, there is a hair clip  shaped like two oak leaves. These oak leaves hold four thin gold chains in place so that they lie over her hair and sway gently as she moves. Around each wrist there are two plain gold bangles, each less than three inches across and Clark can see gold hoop earrings peaking out from underneath her hair.

“Rachel.” Clark replies with a smile as he holds his hand out for Rachel to shake. “Happy birthday.”

“Thank you.” Rachel smiles as she shakes Clark’s hand. “I was under the impression that Lois or Cat usually covers these sort of events… didn’t I hear something about you bumping into a Prince or something like that?”

“It was a Duke and there were extenuating circumstances.” Clark replies. “Lois has jury duty and Perry’s thinks Cat’s pissed off enough people recently.”

For a second Rachel is quiet as her gaze drifts to one of the groups of reporters, who are either leering at her or staring in confusion, and perhaps envy, at Clark.

“You haven’t been talking to the other reporters have you?” Rachel asks.

“Not really, why?” Before Rachel can respond Clark remembers something that he’d overheard earlier from one of the reporters. “Wait, wasn’t there something about your last birthday?”

“Not exactly. It was two years ago, right after I returned to Gotham.” Rachel explains. Her gaze returns to Clark and she laughs—a dry, obviously fake laugh which is almost painful to hear. “I got drunk, insulted every single one of my guests and then all but chased them out of the mansion. The only reason that wasn’t front page news is because it happened on the same night that the Narrows exploded.”

“You don’t strike me as the type to just ‘get drunk’.” Clark replies.

Rachel hesitates for a second before she speaks. “It was related to the _other_ events of the night.”

Clark can tell that Rachel is purposefully not looking at Clark as she speaks, choosing instead to inspect one of her bracelets. After a second Rachel’s gaze lifts from her wrist, but before she can say anything to Clark the reporter is practically shoved aside by Lex Luthor, who has left his little group of admirers behind and is now standing extremely close to Rachel… and looking at the young woman like he’s some sort of predator and Rachel Wayne is his prey.

“Miss Wayne.” Lex smiles as extends his hand to the Gotham Billionaire. When Rachel takes his offered hand he actually leans over and presses a kiss to the back of Rachel’s palm. The Gotham Billionaire does not even attempt to hide the look of disgust and seems to be struggling not to pull her hand from Lex’s grasp.

“Mister Luthor.” Rachel replies as Lex straightens up, but does not release his grip on her hand.

“May I have this dance?” Lex asks and instantly a smirk appears on Rachel’s face.

“I’m sorry Lex, but I’m afraid I’ve already given that dance away to Clark.”

Instantly Clark steps forward and offers Rachel his arm. Both Rachel and Clark smirk as Rachel places her hand on the crook of Clark’s arm and the two step around Lex and head towards the dance floor. Luthor looks like he wants to punch something as he watches the Billionaire walk away from him practically in the arms of a common reporter.

“Thank you.” Rachel whispers as they find their place among the guests who are already dancing and Clark awkwardly places an arm around Rachel’s waist. “I assume I’m leading?”

“If I’d know we were going to dance again I’d have taken lessons.” Clark smiles as they being a simple waltz and his gaze instantly drops to the floor as he tries to keep up with Rachel and not step on her feet. “I assume the other reporters have already worked up the nerve to talk to you?”

“Individually? No.” Rachel replies as she effortlessly leads Clark around the dance floor while avoiding her partner’s missteps. “They jumped me en masse earlier.”

“Oh? And what did you say?”

“Something about new beginnings and not clinging to the past.” Rachel sighs, shrugging slightly as, from somewhere off to the right of the orchestra a camera flashes as it captures a picture that will most likely grace the front page of the society section tomorrow.

“The sort of meaningless trite about the ‘need for change’ that only idiots think sounds profound. I can give you something better if you like.”

“I’d appreciate that… so what does Rachel Wayne have for the public on her twenty-fifth birthday?” Clark asks.

“Gotham does need to change—but the problem is apathy. Apathy has sunken it’s claws into the city and I believe that people need dramatic examples to shake them out of that apathy. My parents tried to change Gotham, to help those less fortunate and they encouraged others to do the same… their deaths ended up shaming the wealthy of Gotham into acting.” Rachel’s eyes lose focus for a second as her gaze drifts towards the crowd of guests around the two of them. “I can only hope that Gotham has learned from the past and that the next person—or _persons_ —who try to make a difference don’t meet a similar fate.”

“That’s a very depressing view to take, especially on your birthday.” Clark remarks as the waltz they have been dancing to comes to an end. Clark finds himself with his hand on the crook of Rachel’s arm with the Billionaire leading the two of them off the dance floor to an empty table.

“There’s a reason that some people in Gotham call Batwoman ‘the Dark Knight’.” Rachel replies with a smirk as they reach the table and she sits down. “Although that’s probably not the best example—after all, any woman who dresses up like a giant bat must have some major issues.”

Clark can’t stop himself from staring in shock at Gotham’s Favorite Daughter, wanting to say _something_ but not having any idea of what he could possible say. It’s so extremely odd to hear the young woman degrade herself so easily, especially since Clark knows about her secret identity.

Before Clark can think of something to say he is interrupted by the arrival of a young boy with messy black hair and blue eyes. Despite having never met the boy before, Clark instantly recognizes him from all the photographs and video that the media has been running almost non-stop since Rachel took him in.

“This party is boring.” Richard Grayson sighs theatrically as he leans against the side of Rachel’s chair.

“You could go upstairs.” Rachel replies, turning away from Clark so that she is facing Dick. “No one’s making you stay here… not even Alfred.”

“Yeah, but then you’d be stuck here with Lex Luthor.” Dick replies, drawing a genuine smile and a laugh from both his foster mother and Clark. Clark laughter draws the young boy’s attention away from Rachel. For a second Richard simply stares at Clark, tilting his head to one side before he speaks.

“… so who are you?”

“Manners.” Rachel whispers as she gently pokes Dick in the side, which draws a giggle from the young boy. “Richard Grayson, meet Clark Kent. He’s a reporter from _The Daily Planet_ in Metropolis.”

“A reporter?” Dick asks, staring at Clark like Rachel has just told him that Clark was some kind of slimy human-sized worm.

“We’re not all bad.” Clark replies with a smile as he offers his hand to Dick. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Mr. Grayson… mind if I ask you a few questions?”

Dick glances at Rachel, who nods ever so slightly. After a second’s hesitation the young boy reaches out and shakes Clark’s hand as he nods silently.

“Okay… Clark reaches into his pocket and pulls out his notebook and a pen. “So what’s your dream job?”

“Policeman.” Dick replies with a smile as one of Rachel’s arms reaches out to wrap around his shoulders. Clark wishes that he’d brought Jimmy along with him—so far almost all the pictures of Dick and Rachel which have shown up in papers have either been taken without their consent from a distance or are ridiculously formal. “But being a doctor would be cool—I’d like to help people.”

“Favorite color?”

“Dark blue.” Dick replies, although he hesitates for a second. “Or maybe red… they’re both good colors.”

“Favorite animal?”

Dick has to stop and think about this question for a second. “Elephants. We had one at the circus named Zitka. I was there when she was born and I used to help wash her. She’d always splash me and mess up my hair.”

“What do you call Rachel?” Clark asks.

“… I call her mom.” Dick replies, with some hesitation as he leans back against the Billionaire. “Cause she’s a good mom, even if some people don’t think so.”

“I think it’s obvious that she’s a good mom.  She isn’t even making you stay at this boring party.” Clark remarks, drawing a laugh from Dick and a smile from Rachel.

“What about you?” Dick asks as Rachel pats her leg and he hops up, squirming a bit as the two adjust so that the little boy is sitting comfortably in hr lap without being in danger of falling out. “What did you want to be when you were little?”

“Hmmm…” Clark leans back in his chair as he puts away his notebook. “At first I didn’t really know—I just thought I’d become a farmer like my dad.”

“Your dad was a farmer?” Dick blinks. “Did you have cows?”

“My parents have a farm back in Kansas, in a town called Smallville. They’ve got a few cows, but not as many as I had when I was little.” Clark replies.

“Cows are weird.” Dick remarks, which draws an extremely unladylike snort of laughter from Rachel. “They are!”

“So at first I thought I’d become a farmer—but a friend of mine ran the School Newspaper and I sorta got dragged into being a reporter.”

“And you just kept doing it?”

“Well it turned out that I was semi decent at it.” Clark replies. “So I took classes in college and was lucky enough to get a job at _The Daily Planet_.”

Dick Grayson looks like he is going to ask Clark another question, but as he opens his mouth to speak he yawns and it seems like the little boy has suddenly realized that he is tired and is not entirely pleased with this fact. Dick actually grumbles softly as one hand raises to rub at his eyes, which have started to droop.

“Sleepy?” Rachel asks Dick as he leans back into her arms. “Or did the sugar finally wear off?”

Dick just yawns again and turns towards Rachel so that he can more comfortably rest against his foster mother’s shoulder. Effortlessly Rachel stands up, easily holding her ward in her arms… and although Clark knows that Batwoman can (and has) thrown _him_ around it’s still strange to see Rachel—the “Billionaire Wayne Heiress” Rachel—pick up the boy without any apparent effort.

“I think it’s someone’s bedtime.” Rachel remarks and Dick mumbles a sleepy protest, but the does not try to escape from his foster mother’s arms. As Dick quickly falls asleep in Rachel’s arms Alfred Pennyworth appears at his employer’s side as if he’d either teleported or had been hiding under an invisibility cloak.

“I believe that some sort of farewell speech would be appropriate Miss Wayne.” Alfred remarks, his gaze focusing on Clark for a half-second before it shifts to Dick and Rachel.

“Of course Alfred.” Rachel smiles at her butler before she turns back towards Clark. “Thank you for saving me from dancing with Luthor.”

Before Clark can reply Rachel continues, but then Gotham’s Dark Knight drops her voice to a whisper that Clark almost misses despite his Kryptonian senses and dds a request— _“My study, ten minutes?”_

“No problem.” Clark replies, trusting Rachel to understand that he has heard her message and is agreeing. He nods farewell to Rachel, who follows Alfred towards the center of the ballroom as Clark makes his own way through the crowd of guests towards the nearest exit.

By the time that Clark is at the exit the Wayne family butler and Rachel have reached the center of the room and is holding a small gold bell with a dark wooden handle, which he begins to ring. Clark pauses as the soft delicate sound of the bell somehow manages to cut through the noise of the room full of party guests, who being to turn towards Alfred and Rachel, who is wearing her best Billionaire smile as she continues to hold Dick in her arms.

“Ladies and Gentlemen—” Clark can see the other reporters turning towards Rachel gleefully, clearly expecting and preparing for the young woman to do or say something shocking. “I can’t thank you enough for spending a lovely May Day—or at least a May Evening—helping me to celebrate my twenty-fifth birthday. I hope that you’ve enjoyed yourself as much as I have, but unfortunately the hour is late and I’m not as young as I used to be…” Rachel pauses so that her guests can laugh before she continues. “And, perhaps most importantly it seems that someone has stayed up past his bedtime.”

Rachel looks down at Dick Grayson, who is snoozing on her shoulder. The last Wayne smiles at her ward and all over the room reporters quickly capture the touching moment as one or two of the more sentimental (or perhaps more inebriated) guests sigh audibly at the birthday girl and her foster son.

“So I believe I shall say goodnight and excuse myself from your lovely company.” With these final words the guests politely applaud as Rachel walks through the crowd like a Queen walking through her subjects. As Rachel leaves the ballroom and heads into the rest of Wayne Manor the guests begin to head towards the exit, as Alfred and the hired waiters and waitresses start to ensure that the guests are leaving.

Clark steps through the door and around a corner. Once he is out of sight Clark super-speeds to Rachel’s study, the same room where he had watched as she played the piano and sang.  The room is practically unchanged from the last time he was there—the papers on Rachel’s desk are different, there are some new books on the shelves and different sheet music sits on the music shelf of the piano. The one difference that actually captures Clark’s attention is that there are three red roses sitting on top of the keys of the piano. A plain black ribbon is tied around the stems of the roses and, attached to the ribbon is a piece of what looks like parchment and a silver charm on a bracelet. Clark can’t help but notice that the parchment has “ _Happy Birthday Beloved”_ written in black ink in elegant handwriting and that the silver charm is in the shape of a phoenix. Clark’s attention is only drawn away from the roses by the sound of footsteps in the hallway. He turns towards the door as it opens and Rachel Wayne steps into her study.

The Dark Knight has removed her heels and is barefoot, but other then that Rachel is still dressed as she was at the party, except for the fact that she—or perhaps Alfred—has put a dark red shawl around her shoulders. Rachel shuts the door to her study behind her and approaches Clark—only to notice the roses sitting on her piano. Batwoman walks past Clark, to the piano and stops. She stares down at the red roses and her shawl slips down on her shoulders, allowing Clark to see part of Rachel’s bare back. Clark doesn’t mean to stare, but somehow he notices that something is… well off with Rachel’s skin. It takes Clark a second to realize that Rachel is wearing some sort of makeup on her back, which probably hides the scars she no doubt received while out and about as Batwoman.

Slowly Rachel reaches out and runs a single finger against the petals of the roses, before she inspects the phoenix bracelet. Clark fights the urge to step forward and place a hand on Rachel’s shoulder. Instead he remains silent and still, watching the Dark Knight stare at the mysterious gift. Clark wonders who sent the flowers and the bracelet to Rachel and wonders why only three roses—it seems that people usually either send a single red rose or a dozen, not three and not tied together with a black ribbon. Rachel eventually abandons her inspection of the flowers and turns back towards Clark, pulling her shawl up as she turns to that it is no longer slipping off her shoulders and so that her back is once again covered.

“Alfred’s chasing the last guests out of the Manor.” Rachel informs Clark as she steps past him and sits down on the couch which occupies the corner of the study opposite the piano. As she sits Rachel gestures for Clark to sit in the armchair which is to her left and tucks her feet up underneath her.

“I assume you want to talk about Robin.” Rachel sighs as Clark sits down. “Or at least the League wants you to talk with me about him.”

“There have been some concerns raised.” Clark replies as he leans back in the armchair. “Gotham isn’t exactly the safest place for an eleven year old boy—even if he _isn’t_ a superhero.”

“He’s protected—Robin’s suit is the next generation of mine, he knows to run if I tell him to and I’m not going to let him get in over his hea—”

“Rachel?” Clark cuts off the Billionaire Superhero. “The League has it’s doubts, but I support you.”

“…what?”

“I think it’s obvious that you care about Dick. Anyone who doesn’t see that is blind. I don’t think you put him in danger if you could help it. I… really I’m here to tell you that, if anything happens, if you need me—if he needs me, then I’ll be there faster than a speeding bullet.”

Clark reaches into his pocket, fumbling for a second before he pulls out a small electronic device around the size of a lighter, which has a metal ring attached to it so that it can be clipped on to or attached to something.

“This is for him.” Clark explains. “It the same thing as the ‘phone’ I gave you last Christmas—press down that trigger and it’ll produce an ultra-sonic signal that only I can hear.”

“Thank you.” Rachel whispers as she hesitantly reaches out and takes the device from Clark. She holds the device in the palm of her hand and stares at it for a second. “Clark… I want you to promise me something.”

“What?”

“If it ever comes down to saving me or saving Dick—chose him.”

 “I’ll save both of you.” Clark replies, without a second’s hesitation.

“Then save him first.” Rachel replies as she places the device on a small coffee table in front of her. She stares Clark’s gift for a second before smirking slightly. “You know that _The Enquirer_ thinks he’s your son.”

“What?” Clark asks, thrown by the sudden change of the topic.

“They think Robin is your son and that I’m training and raising him for you.”

“They think Robin is my son?”

“They’re divided on if I’m the mom of if Kryptonians bud or some such nonsense.” Rachel replies. “You don’t—do you?”

“No. Kryptonians don’t ‘bud’.” Clark sighs, chuckling under his breath.

“Of course most of _The Enquirer_ ’s writers are still convinced that I’m a Kryptonian who lost the ability to fly.”

“Seriously?”

“I read _The Enquirer_ when I want a laugh.” Rachel admits. “Besides, the reactions you see when a reporter sees me leaning out of a limo to buy a copy are priceless.”

“But seriously? They think Robin is my son?”

“I wish. Having an invulnerable ward would be a blessing… don’t you think so Dick?”

There is a sigh and the door to Rachel’s study opens to reveal Richard Grayson—an extremely sleepy looking Richard Grayson, who is wearing dark grey pajama bottoms with little bats on them and a Superman shirt… if Clark isn’t mistaken, it’s the same shirt that he’d given the little boy.

Clark can’t help but stare at Dick as he makes his way into the study, followed by a black dog, and sits down next to Rachel. He just looks… so _normal_ , like any other eleven year old boy up past his bedtime and trying to pretend he’s not tired. Apart from the fact that his foster mother is Rachel Wayne, there’s really nothing that would make someone stop and look at him twice.

But somehow this ordinary boy managed to convince _Batwoman_ to take him on as her sidekick, to let someone she obviously cares for to put on a superhero costume and join her on the streets and rooftops of Gotham. Clark doesn’t think it could have been any other way—it was clear from the beginning that Rachel cared for Dick and something tells Clark that, if Rachel had her way, Dick never would have become Robin. Clark draws himself out of his musings as the dog—whom Clark is pretty sure is named ‘Ace’—jumps up on to the couch and plops down between the two Gotham heroes.

“When did you know?” Dick asks his foster mother.

“About two seconds after you started creeping down the hallway.” Rachel replies as she scratches Ace’s head. “One of the floorboards squeaks—I’m disappointed that Clark didn’t catch it.”

“So you’re Superman?” Dick asks as he turns towards Clark, who nods. “…so how exactly do people miss that?”

“I have no idea.” Rachel and Clark reply almost in unison, which makes Clark and Dick laugh while Rachel just smiles and shakes her head from side to side.

“Nice to meet you Robin.” Clark smiles.

“Cool.” Dick whispers. “Being a reporter must be a good job for a hero—I bet it’s really easy to slip away and still get your job done.”

“You’re right.”

“You don’t need the glasses.”

“Nope. They just help make ‘Clark Kent’ a more believable character.”

“So why are you here? Does the League need Batwoman?”

“Well partially I’m here because my editor wants a piece on Rachel’s birthday and partially I’m here… well because of you.” Clark explains, gesturing to the young boy. “The League’s all too scared to talk to Batwoman on their own, so they wanted me to check things out—”

“You know she didn’t want me to be a hero.” Dick informs Clark, cutting off anything the Last Son of Krypton was about to say. “When I found the cave I asked Rachel if I could help her and she said no.”

“I didn’t want him to be hurt.” Rachel explains, one hand reaching out to rest on top of Dick’s hand, which is resting on top of Ace’s back.

“She showed me her bruises and scars and she told me it was too dangerous.” Dick’s voice drops to a whisper and he leans against his foster mother’s side. “But I didn’t want to have to wait at home while my mom was out fighting…”

“He all but threatened to go out and fight crime without my help or training.” Rachel informs Clark, shifting so that her arm is wrapped around Dick’s shoulder. “So I agreed to train him.”

“And I promised to run away if she told me to.” Dick adds.

“And now you’re a hero.” Clark replies with a smile. “I understand that Rachel’s taken precautions—and now I’ve done the same.”

“It’s an emergency beacon.” Rachel explains, gesturing to the electronic device on the coffee table in front of the three.

“Does Rachel have one?” Dick asks Clark.

“Yes, I gave it to her last Christmas.” Clark explains. “She’s never used it—but she does have one.”

“So you’re _okay_ with this?” Dick asks, blinking a few times in a clear effort to keep his eyes open. “With me being Robin?”

“Yes I am.” Clark replies. “I mean, I’m still concerned—I mean you _are_ just eleven years old. So while I’m ‘okay’ with you being Robin I am going to be keeping an eye on you—but I already do that with Batwoman.”

“As much as she lets you?” Dick’s smirk is clearly directed at his foster mother.

“As much as she lets me.” Clark replies. “I should go… it’s getting late and I have an article to write for tomorrow’s issue of _The Daily Planet_.”

“And it’s long past your bedtime.” Rachel adds, picking up Ace and putting him on the ground before she once again easily picks up her foster son. “Goodnight Clark—for real this time. I trust you can find your way out?”

“Of course. Goodnight Rachel, Dick.”

Dick mumbles something and Clark smiles as he nods farewell to Batwoman and Robin before he makes his way out of Wayne Manor and takes to the skies—he has a hotel room in Gotham courtesy of _The Daily Planet_. Clark hesitates once he is high above Wayne Manor and glances down, using his xray vision to watch as Rachel Wayne carries her ward through the Manor to his bedroom, Ace following close behind the two. As Rachel places Dick on his bed Clark heads for his hotel room, already composing his article about Rachel’s birthday party as he flies. Down in Dick Grayson’s room, Rachel pulls the blankets up around her foster son and watches at Ace jumps up on the bed and curls up in a ball next to the boy.

“He’s the real one, isn’t he?” Dick asks, the questions distorted by a yawn.

“Yes, Clark’s really Superman.” Rachel replies as she sits down on the bed and reaches over to pet Ace.

“No, I mean… Clark’s the real one.” Dick struggles to explain. “Not Superman. He’s just the mask.”

For a moment Rachel just stares down at her son and sidekick as she thinks about what Dick has said. Finally, just as Dick is about to fully fall asleep, Gotham’s Dark Knight asks Robin a question.

“What about me? Am I Batwoman or is she just Rachel Wayne’s mask?”

Dick blinks, frowns and peers at Rachel for a second before he answers. “I don’t know.”

“I guess that’s a good answer.” Rachel sighs, brushing a lock of hair away from Dick’s face. “Goodnight Dick, sleep tight.”

“Night mom.” Dick replies before silently watching his foster mother leave his room. When Rachel reaches the door she flicks off the light and looks back at Dick one more time before stepping into the hallway and closing the door behind her. The room goes almost completely dark, save for moonlight falling through the open windows and Ace moves closer to Dick, licking at the young boy’s hand before he settles down to sleep next to the young hero.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Meanwhile, in Hub City, a man wearing a dark blue trench coat and fedora is busy making his way up a fire escape which is attached to the northern wall of a perfectly ordinary five story apartment building. When he reaches the third floor the man known as the Question easily opens the window he finds there and slips inside the darkened apartment, flicking on a flashlight he pauses to close the curtains before beginning his inspection of the empty apartment.

The orphan turned investigative journalist turned vigilante can dimly remember seeing the apartment’s tenant—June Winthrop—playing Amanda Wingfield in a production of _The Glass Menagerie._ After achieving some fame in Hub City the actress had moved to Gotham, where she’d gotten a part in a painfully unfunny sitcom entitled _Love That Baby!_ The show—which had _clearly_ been a precursor to the hidden lyrics found in Boy Band albums—had lasted for ten years and enabled June Winthrop to star in several films. After a few critically acclaimed independent films the actress had retired and returned to Hub City, where she’d taught acting classes at Hub City’s community college and volunteered as a drama coach at several local high schools…

However two days ago a neighbor had noticed that Mrs. Winthrop’s door was open and called the police, who had discovered signs of a struggle and were unable to locate Mrs. Winthrop. What had gotten the Question interested in the case was that, less then twelve hours after June Winthrop vanished from Hub City a man named Todd Baker had disappeared from his home in a suburb of Star City. Todd Baker had also been a regular cast member on _Love That Baby!_ and, more importantly, Mr. Baker had lodged several complaints with the police and his neighborhood watch organization that indicated someone had been stalking him…

Of course this raised the question—where were the _other_ cast members of _Love That Baby!?_ Well of the remaining three cast members two—Brian Daly and Tammy Vance—were currently appearing in _Death of a Salesmen_ at the Gotham Monarch Theatre. The third cast member—Marion Louise Doll, better known as "Mary" or "Baby Doll", the so called “star” of the show—hadn’t been seen in over ten years, ever since her career failed to continue after the final episode of _Love That Baby!_

For once the Police hasn’t missed much in their investigation—it would have been impossible to miss the signs of a struggle present in the apartment and the cops managed to find trace amounts of chloroform. All that the Question’s investigation of the apartment turned up were some subtle indications that two people and some sort of small four wheeled cart had been involved in June Winthrop’s abduction.

So the question is, where to go from here? The trench coated hero/vigilante contemplates this as he makes his way out of June Winthrop’s apartment and down the fire escape to his beat up blue Pontiac GTO… Five actors all connected by one extremely unfunny sitcom which was quickly being forgotten. Of those five actors three were missing, two under very suspicious circumstances while one had been in some sort of self exposed exile for over ten years. The two remaining actors were in Gotham, staring in a play at the very theater where Marion Louise Doll had attempted to re-launch her career after _Love That Baby!_ A theater which just happened to be the backdrop for Gotham’s most infamous crime, the murder of Martha and Thomas Wayne.

“Well then, to Gotham it is.” The Question whispers to himself as she slides into the driver’s seat of his car. The Dark Knight should be interested by the kidnapping of two actors and the possibility of two additional kidnappings in the near future.

As the Question turns the key and shifts the old Pontiac into drive, he wonders if Batwoman will bring in Robin on this investigation. It would be nice to meet the boy who has intrigued the entire Justice League and, more importantly, there are several aspects of the great conspiracy which put children at greater risks—such as the true (sinister) purpose of aglets, the hidden powers behind the rise of boy bands and the shadowy figures controlling both the Boy and Girl Scouts.

 

_(Author's Note:[This is the dress](http://captain-rachel.tumblr.com/post/41503995283/the-dress-rachel-wayne-wore-to-her-birthday-in) Rachel wore at the party.)_


	35. Nemo Liber Est Qui Corpori Servit

_Nemo Liber Est Qui Corpori Servit = Latin for “No One Is Free Who Is A Slave To His Body”_

On the day after her birthday Rachel Wayne manages to crawl out of her bed before the crack of noon… because Ace decides that he needs to go on a walk and that Rachel needs to be the one to take him. The dog—whose back is now as tall as Rachel’s waist—actually goes so far as to grab the leg of his master’s pajamas so that he can tug her out of bed. When Rachel finally gives in to Ace’s demands the two go on a log walk through and around the Manor’s gardens.

When they return to Wayne Manor itself Ace immediately wanders off—probably to take a nap with Dick until the boy wakes up—and Rachel heads off to her study, where Henri’s birthday gifts are still sitting on top of the piano keys. At some point during the night Alfred has visited the room and placed the roses in a small vase which now sits on the table that holds the bust of Shakespeare. Taking the note and the phoenix charm Rachel heads down into the cave where, in a wooden box that sits in a small niche in the wall, she keeps all the letters and small gifts which Henri has sent to her. Above the box’s niche there is a wooden rack that holds the sword Henri had given her—the one which Rachel had carried off the mountain when she’d left the League of Shadows.

Once this is accomplished Rachel does not linger over the relics of her relationship with Henri, instead she heads to the cave’s “changing room” where both the Batwoman and Robin suits rest when they’re not being worn. She grabs Dick’s utility belt and goes back into the main area of the cave. On a worktable she lay out everything that she’ll need to create a new pocket or modify an existing one to hold Clark’s present.

By the time that Dick wakes up and heads downstairs for a late breakfast / early lunch, Rachel has finished her alterations to the belt and is sitting in the kitchen of Wayne Manor. While Alfred and Dick make pancakes for the three of them Rachel concentrates on her cup of coffee and a small mountain of letters, cards and emails congratulating her on surviving another journey around the sun. In addition to these messages there are also a fair amount of polity and impolitely worded inquiries from reporters, all containing questions about her “conversation” with Clark Kent… it seems that the gossip based section of the news media has come down with a case of wild mass guessing about the reporter and the billionaire’s “relationship.”

By the time that the combined might of Dick Grayson’s puppy eyes and Alfred Pennyworth’s frown of disapproval have convinced Rachel to actually eat the pancakes and bacon in front of her, Gotham’s favorite daughter has only one message left to deal with… an email from the Question, sent via the League’s email system. The faceless hero from Hub City is working on a case in which all roads lead to Gotham—two actors from _Love That Baby!_ a sitcom which had been filmed in Gotham (and which Rachel had vague memories of) have gone missing under suspicious circumstances. Of the sitcom’s remaining three actors one—Marion Louise Dahl—has been all but underground for years, while the other two—Brian Daly and Tammy Vance—are in a play at the Monarch Theatre. The Question has sent all of the information he has gathered on the disappearances and his theories to the Dark Knight, offered to hand the investigation over to her and, almost as if it was an afterthought, offered his assistance to not only Batwoman but Robin as well.

Before Rachel starts to compose a reply to the Question’s email she pulls up the latest police reports… and finds that there has been a development in the case. The previous night—while the wealthy and famous had been at Wayne Manor—Brian Daly hadn’t returned to the apartment that he shared with his long term boyfriend. The last time that Daly had been seen was shortly after his performance in _Death Of A Salesman_ at the Monarch Theatre… which meant that the only cast member of _Love That Baby!_ who could be accounted for was Tammy Vance.

 

_\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

**_From:_ ** _Batwoman_

**_To:_ ** _The Question_

**_Subject:_ ** _RE: Possible Case Connected To Gotham_

**_Date:_ ** _Saturday, May 2, 2015 10:00 AM_

Brian Daly never made it home last night. Gordon has ordered police protection for Tammy Vance who intends to perform tonight at the Monarch Theatre. Your help in this case would be appreciated, I’ll keep you informed of our movements via Watchtower.

_\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

 

“What are you doing?” Dick asks around a mouthful of banana pancakes as he leans over so that he can peek at Rachel’s computer.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” Alfred remarks from his side of the table, not even bothering to look up from _The Gotham Gazette._ (Which has a picture of Rachel dancing with Clark Kent prominently featured on the front page.) Dick turns towards Alfred and make a big show of swallowing his mouthful before he turns back towards Rachel. The former acrobat does not bother to repeat his question, he simply stares at his legal guardian until she answers.

“The Question has stumbled upon a kidnapping case which involves Gotham.” Rachel informs her ward.

“That’s the guy without a face—right? The crazy conspiracy theory guy?”

“It’s a mask and it’s ‘conspiracy _theorist_ ’ not ‘crazy conspiracy theory guy’.” Rachel corrects. “The Question believes that there is a singular conspiracy that is made up of many smaller conspiracies.”

“Does he wear a tinfoil hat? Or is there like a hidden layer of tinfoil in his costume?”

“There isn’t any tinfoil in his costume.” Rachel sighs as she closes her computer and reaches over to grab her mug so that she can finish off her coffee. “According to the Question tin foil hats actually enhance the signals from mind control rays. So anyone who wears a tin foil hat is affiliated with the source of the rays.”

“So… what’s the source?” Dick asks as he grabs the dirty dishes from the little family’s breakfast and takes them over to the sink.

“I don’t know.” Rachel shrugs. “You can ask him tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“Someone’s been kidnapping actors and actresses who worked on an old sitcom called _Love That Baby!_ The Question is going to help us with the case, since he was the one to discover the connection between the kidnappings.”

 “Didn’t the Question help you out before?” Dick asks as he starts cleaning the dishes and Ace creeps out from under the table in the hopes of getting some scraps or being allowed to lick the plate. “With that ‘Lock-Up’ guy?”

“Yes, the Questioned ended up being in the right place at the right time. He probably saved Detective Montoya’s life.” Rachel explains as she stands up and goes to help Dick with the dishes as Alfred fills up Ace’s bowl. “I’ll bring up my files on the Question and on the Lock-Up case. You can look at them while I watch the sitcom.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

On the eastern side of the Monarch Theatre there is a small door next to the Theatre’s loading dock. The door—which opens on to a small alley—serves as the main entrance and exit for the theatre’s cast and crew and is an emergency exit which the audience can use. Frequently this door serves as a makeshift VIP entrance, allowing the more famous members of the audience to slip in and out without having to mingle.

Seventeen years ago Thomas and Martha Wayne had taken their eight year old daughter to see a performance of Arrigo Boito’s _Mefistofele_ at the Monarch Theatre. When Rachel Wayne had been frightened by the performers dressed as bats it had been that door which the Wayne Family had used when they left that theatre… on that night the alley which the door opened on to had gotten a new name— _Crime Alley_ —and become more well known then the Monarch Theatre.

Since her parent’s murder Rachel Wayne had visited Crime Alley exactly three times. The first visit had occurred when Rachel returned to Gotham—in fact Rachel had visited only hours before she’d become Batwoman for the first time. The other two occasions had been timed to coincide with the anniversary of her parents’ deaths. Now Batwoman is standing on top of an apartment building directly across the street from the Monarch Theatre, with Robin perched on an air conditioning unit to her right. The young hero is holding a pair of binoculars, which he has focused on Crime Alley, while Batwoman’s gaze slowly sweeps over the entire scene, on the watch for anything suspicious. Commissioner Gordon has assigned three members of the Gotham PD to protect Tammy Vance. Two of those officers are backstage as close as possible to the actress, while the remaining officer is stationed in a police car which is parked right in front of the theatre’s main entrance.

“I don’t get it.” Batwoman and Robin have been on the roof for a little less then two hours when Robin breaks the silence.

“What?” Batwoman asks as the young hero sets his binoculars down and stretches.

“Why kidnap actors? Especially from such a bad show?”

“Everyone has enemies.”

“Yeah but what could the _entire_ cast of _Love That Baby!_ have done to anyone?”

“Well now that…” Robin does not recognize the voice, so the instant that he hears those three words—as the speaker is pausing, as if for dramatic effect—Dick Grayson turns towards the source, a batarang in hand and ready to be thrown. “… is the Question.”

Before Robin can actually throw his batarang at the hero from Hub City Batwoman reaches over and effortlessly plucks the weapon from her ward’s hands, leaving the young hero with his arm hanging awkwardly in the air as he stares at the Question.

Although—logically—Dick knows that the Question’s “facelessness” is due to some sort of mask (Batwoman’s files hadn’t commented or even speculated on the material it was made out of) some part of him can’t shake the feeling that what looks like perfectly blank skin is _not_ a mask but the Question’s real face. As he awkwardly lowers his arm Dick finds himself remembering the comment he had made about Clark Kent the previous night— _Clark’s the real one. Not Superman. He’s just the mask.—_ and the question that Rachel had asked him just as he was falling asleep… _What about me? Am I Batwoman or is she just Rachel Wayne’s mask?_ Dick finds himself wondering if the Question—or perhaps that should be if _all_ of the world’s heroes—have ever asked themselves a similar question.

“It’s good to see you Q.” Batwoman remarks, returning Robin’s batarang as the hero from Hub City steps forward to shake her hand.

“Always a pleasure.” The Question nods his head slightly in greeting to Batwoman before he releases his hand and turns so that it is clear his attention is focused on Robin. “And you must be the Dark Knight’s squire… so is it the bird or the English folk hero?”

“Well, Robin Hood is Green Arrow’s thing.” Robin replies, a smile appearing on his face as he shakes the Question’s hand. “Er—sorry about the batarang.”

“You’ve got good reflexes.” Despite the lack of a visible face, Robin swears that the other hero is _smirking_ as he speaks. With a nod directed towards Robin the Question  turns away from the young hero so that he is facing the Monarch Theatre. “Any movement?”

“Just the usual pre-show and smokers at intermission.” Batwoman replies. “Brian Daly was snatched from the alley on the right—he was the last actor out last night.”

“Gordon’s sent three officers—two are backstage with Vance, one is in the police crusier.” Robin informs the Question.

“We’re borrowing JL channel nine.” Batwoman adds as the two older heroes move towards the edge of the roof, Robin following close behind them. “I’ve connected it to the police radio and our coms.”

“So _do_ you know who would want revenge on an entire sitcom cast?” Robin asks as the Question reaches up and flips over to the correct channel on his Justice League communicator.

“Not yet.” The Question replies. “Apart from Mary Dahl’s medical condition the only noteworthy thing about _Love That Baby!_ is the fact that it was a precursor to hidden lyrics in boy band albums.”

“Why would _anyone_ want to put subliminal messages in boy band albums?” Robin asks as he turns to stare at the Question in confusion.

“To encourage preteens and teenagers to purchase things they don’t need and don’t really want.”

“…isn’t that the plot to _Josie And The Pussycats?_ ” Behind his domino mask Robin raises one eyebrow as a smirk creeps on to Batwoman’s lips.

“Already you see how far the conspiracy spreads.”

Before the Question can offer any further explanation on this piece of his theory and before the two Gotham heroes can say anything the Gotham police radio—which has been quite up until this point—suddenly comes to life, drawing the three heroes’ attention from the Question’s conspiracy theory and towards the Monarch Theatre.

 _“They’re making a try for Vance!”_ A police officer yells as two things happen at once—an unmarked truck comes screeching around the corner into Crime Alley, knocking over several trash cans and the alley door is kicked open by two armed me wearing black ski masks. Each one of the two men has a firm grip on one of Tammy Vance’s wrists, which allows them to pull the actress along with them even though Miss Vance is kicking, screaming and doing her best to escape from the two kidnappers.

Mere seconds after the truck rounds the corner and the alley door flies open the Dark Knight all but hurls herself off the rooftop, her cape easily carrying her across the street to Crime Alley. The Question and Robin follow close behind the Dark Knight, using their grappling hooks to (somewhat) safely reach the alley and the kidnappers. The arrival of the three heroes does not go unnoticed—when the Question and Batwoman land in the alley they are almost instantly surrounded by roughly ten men who seem to spill out of the unmarked truck. The Dark Knight vaguely recognizes these men from her various outings as Matches Malone—they’re all men who don’t belong to a Mob Family or a supervillain’s gang, men who offer their services to the highest bidder. While Batwoman and the Question deal with the men Robin fires off his grappling hook, which takes him past the criminals who have surrounded the two older heroes and towards Tammy Vance and the two men who are trying to drag her towards the unmarked truck.

The crooks don’t see Robin coming—he lands on top of one, who drops like a sack of bricks as the young hero uses his momentum to send the second man crashing to the ground. With the two masked criminals dealt with Robin takes hold of Miss Vance’s hand and helps her towards the mouth of the alley—away from the men who are still fighting with the Question and the Dark Knight.

However before Robin can get Tammy Vance to the (relative) safety of the three police officers and their patrol car one of the men driving the truck notices that their target is escaping. The truck roars to life, causing the criminals who had been fighting with Batwoman and the Question to scatter like leaves as it barrels through them—narrowly missing the Question and several of the crooks—as it heads straight for Robin and Tammy Vance.

“ROBIN!” Batwoman screams as she runs towards her ward. Her scream draws the former acrobat’s attention to the truck which is getting closer and closer to him and the actress. The young hero reacts by shoving Tammy Vance to the side—which knocks her out of the path of the truck but leaves Robin right in front of it. As the Dark Knight and the Question run towards the younger hero Robin _somehow_ manages to flip himself so that he goes up and over the truck, which allows him to use his cape to reach the ground shaken, but unharmed.

As the Dark Knight runs to her “squire” to ensure that the young hero is as unharmed as he looks the Question dashes towards Tammy Vance—whose astonishment at being tossed to the side and seeing Robin almost getting run over has allowed her to be grabbed by one of the kidnappers. However the Question’s only manages to brush one of his gloved hands against the actress’ leg as one of the masked criminals pulls Tammy Vance into the truck. Undeterred, the Question keeps running after the truck, with Batwoman and Robin following close behind. As she runs the Dark Knight reaches down and presses a button on a device on her utility belt, which summons the Tumbler from the alley where she and Robin had stashed it earlier that night.

The truck holding Miss Vance smashes through the police cars—most of which have just arrived on scene—at the mouth of Crime Alley as the Tumbler comes around the street corner. As Batwoman, Robin and the Question run down the alley towards the street and the approaching tank like car the three catch sight of something which sends a chill down their spines.

There is a little girl right in the path of the powerful car—a little girl who appears to have chased her ball into the street. Batwoman frantically manipulates her remote control for the Tumbler, causing it to swerve away from the little girl and crash into a dumpster which is both piled high with and surrounded by large black garbage bags.

Robin ends up being the one to pick up the child—after all, Batwoman regularly ends up scaring grown men without even trying and the Question’s lack of a face isn’t exactly the more comforting thing for a scared little girl. The child in question can’t be more than five years old—she has curly blond hair which looks more like a doll then a real child’s hair and is wearing a dark blue sailor’s dress and black formal shoes over long white socks. In her hands the girl holds a dark red ball which appears to have been the reason behind her sudden dash into the Tumbler’s path. The Question joins Robin—although he keeps a short distance between himself and the little girl—as Batwoman heads over to the Tumbler to extract the car form the pile of garbage.

A small crowd has already gathered around the two heroes and the little girl—who has her head on the young hero’s shoulder as she cries out for her mother—by the time that a tall woman with dark red hair pulled back into a pony tail responds to the child’s cries.

“Oh my baby!” The young woman gasps in a strangely theatrically voice as she reaches out and takes the child from Robin’s arms.

“Mommy!” The child cries out happily as she wraps her arms around the woman’s neck.

“Naughty, naughty baby.” The woman murmurs as she runs a hand up and down the little girl’s back. “Haven’t I told you not to run off?”

“I didn’t mean to!” The little girl replies in a strangely malevolent tone which causes the Question to move closer to the child.

“Hold on.” The hero from Hub City mutters as he reaches towards the mother and daughter… only for the child to turn and glare at the faceless man as the Question all but hisses two words: “ _Baby Doll_.”

“Naughty Mister Question! You play too rough!” The girl shrieks as she tosses her ball at the ground, where it explodes, cloaking the entire area in a thick haze of smoke that bites at the lungs of both heroes and civilians—except for the Question, who dives at the woman and the “child” the second the ball is thrown, only to come up empty haned.

“They’re gone!” Robin growls as he stumbles out of the fog of smoke and towards his mentor.

“I got a tracker on Vance!” The Question informs Batwoman as he runs towards the Tumbler, pulling what looks like an Iphone out from a pocket of his overcoat. Robin and the Dark Knight climb into the powerful car—Batwoman taking the driver’s seat while Robin jumps into the back. Pausing just long enough for the Question to climb into the Dark Knight quickly maneuvers the Tumbler out of the trash heap and heads in the direction that the truck had gone.

“What was with that kid?” Robin asks.

“Marion Louis Dahl.” The Question informs the young hero as he somehow connects the tracking program on his phone to the Tumbler’s onboard computer systems, allowing Batwoman to more easily follow the tracker on Tammy Vance.

“From _Love That Baby!?_ ”

“But why?” Robin as he leans forward slightly. “I mean, Dahl quit the show, so why is she going after her old cast?”

“During the final season the show’s rating were dropping. The producers wanted to make changes—to take the focus away from Dahl.” The Question explains as the Tumbler takes a sharp turn around a corner.

“So she quit because she wasn’t getting enough _attention_?” Robin scoffs as he braces himself against the two front seats. “Wasn’t she twenty-five when the show ended?”

“Actors aren’t like normal people.” The Question mutters. “‘Baby Doll’ was delusional—she thought that everyone would want to hire her once she quit the show.”

“But no one wanted her.” Robin practically whispers.

“Especially not for the ‘serious’ work that Dahl wanted.” Batwoman adds.

“And it’s _Gotham_ , so it’s no wonder she went crazy.” Robin sighs.

“The tracker’s stopped moving.” The Question gestures to the screen on the Tumbler’s dashboard where the coordinates of the tracking device are displayed. “Looks like we found their base of operations.”

Batwoman silently nods and greatly reduces the speed of the Tumbler. She reaches forward and flips a switch, shifting the powerful car into stealth mode and turning off the headlights as they get closer to the tracker’s location.

“Where are we?” Robin asks, peering out the windows of the Tumbler as the Question consults the Tumbler’s computer.

“It’s an old television studio.” Batwoman informs her ward. “A group’s been trying to turn it into a museum but the funding keeps falling through due to poor management.”

“The last owner managed to acquire the sets from _Love That Baby!_ ” The Question adds.

“You think the hostages are here?” Batwoman asks as she pulls the Tumbler into an alley a few buildings over from the location of the tracker.

“I’d say their either here or on their way.” The Question muses as he tucks his Iphone back into a pocket on his coat. “We better go in quietly.”

Batwoman nods in response and turns off the Tumbler’s engine. The Dark Knight climbs out of the car and holds the driver’s side door open so that Robin can follow her into the dingy alley where the car is now parked. The Question follows the two Gotham heroes out of the Tumbler and on to a nearby rooftop. This gives the three heroes access to the roof of the building where Tammy Vance—and presumably the other missing actors from _Love That Baby!_ are behind held. Batwoman leads the little group, with the Question immediately behind her to the left and Robin slightly behind the Question to both and the Dark Knight’s right. The three heroes again access to the failed museum—which is essentially a two story office building attached to a large warehouse—through a dust covered skylight.

The ceiling warehouse which holds the sets from both _Love That Baby!_ and a few other old television shows is covered in walkways, pipes and thick wooden struts that have large stage lights hanging off of them. This makes it relatively easy for the three heroes to sneak across the ceiling towards the lighted area where the tracker indicated Tammy Vance is located. Soon the three heroes are perched in the rafters above the sets from _Love That Baby!_ which look like the show is still in production. Everything is in place, in perfect condition, as if the lights appear professionally placed. There are even modern cameras placed throughout the fake house. As the three approach the set they can hear Mary Dahl talking to someone in the same childlike voice which she’d used in front of the Monarch Theatre and which “Baby Doll” had spoken in on _Love That Baby!_

“Welcome home sister Suzzie! I’ve missed you so—Mister Happyhead says he’s missed you too!”

“Mary?” Tammy Vance asks. “Mary Dahl? Is this a joke?”

“No silly!” Mary Dahl laughs chilidshly. “I’m Baby, remember? It’s Suzzie and Timmy and Mumzie and Daddy and Baby!”

Below the three heroes Tammy Vance is standing at the end of a long table in the kitchen set. In front of her—standing on the kitchen table, which puts her at eyelevel with Miss Vance—is Mary Dahl. Sitting around the table are the other members of the  _Love That Baby!_ cast—June Winthrop, Todd Baker and Brian Daly. There are also three other people in the fake room. Two are the same sort of thugs who had helped abduct Tammy Vance from the Monarch Theatre—large men wearing ski masks and holding gloves. The third person is the red headed woman who had accompanied Mary Dahl to the theatre—the woman who had pretended to be the actresses’ mother after Dahl was almost run over by the Tumbler. As the three heroes watch from the ceiling one of the two armed thugs pushes Tammy Vance down so that she is sitting in a chair as Mary Dahl practically skips back down the table to the highchair at the other end.

“Isn’t this the bestest?” Mary asks as she sits down in the highchair. “Having breakfast, just like old times!”

The cast of _Love That Baby!_ sits in stunned silence until the two thugs step forward and prod Brian Daly and Tammy Vance with their guns, causing both actors to visibly pale and lean forward slightly in an attempt to get away from the weapons.

“Oh, oh it’s swell Baby.” Tammy Vance stammers, a very fake smile plastered on her face.

“Oh, oh it’s swell Baby.” Tammy Vance stammers, a very fake smile plastered on her face.

“Great.” Brain Daly adds in a voice which sounds like he’s struggling not to throw up and/or pass out.

Mary Dahl is visibly pleased with Tammy and Brian’s comments—she leans forward, resting her head in her hands and kicking her feet back and forth as a huge smile appears on her face.

“Hey, guess what’s today?! Anybody know?” Baby Doll asks, looking at each “family member” in turn and frowning slightly when none of the actors tries to guess. After one last glance around the fake kitchen Dahl gives up and answers her own question. “It’s my birthday!”

As Mary makes this announcement the red haired woman places a birthday hat on her employer’s head, which draws a childlike cheer from the actress… and causes a frown to appear on the face of Todd Baker—who had played the father on _Love That Baby!_

“You mean that you had us brought here just so you could throw yourself a _surprise party_?” Todd yells, standing up so fast that his chair almost falls over. It’s almost as if the actor doesn’t see the two thugs with the guns, even though they’d prodded Brian Daly and Tammy Vance. “You always were a selfish little brat—throwing temper tantrums and making life miserable for the rest of us! But now you’ve gone too far—”

Before the actor can finish his rant the red headed woman takes two steps towards him and lashes out, landing a solid kick to the elderly man’s chest. The kick forces Todd Baker back into his chair and very real grunt of pain from the actor. When Todd Baker lands back in his chair he raises a hand to his chest as June Winthrop reaches out towards the man who had played her husband on _Love That Baby!_

“Isn’t Miriam a treasure? I couldn’t get through a day without her!” Mary Dahl comments as the red headed woman slowly walks back to stand at the actress’ side. “Naughty naughty daddy! You must’nt talk to your baby like that!”

“You’re not my daughter and we’re not a family!” Todd Baker practically grunts, his hand still pressed to his chest. “Don’t you remember? You canceled our show because you weren’t getting enough attention!”

“But… but I knows now that I made a boo-boo.” Mary Dahl whimpers, theatrically raising her hands up to her face as her eyes fill with tears. However before those tears can fall “Baby Doll” stands up from her high chair and steps on to the kitchen table once more.

“It was hard for me out here.” When Mary Dahl speaks it is with the voice of an adult—not the strange parody of childhood she had previously been using. “I studied and trained and auditioned… but nobody wanted me.”

Mary Dahl pauses and Miriam pulls a small electronic device out of her pocket. With the press of a button a cheesy “awww” comes out of what is clearly a handheld sound effect machine. As soon as the sound effect ends Mary Dahl continues her story.

“Over the years I remembered how happy I was with all of you around me and the folks back home watching me each week… me! _Baby Doll!_ ” With those two words Mary Dahl’s voice loses the maturity and reverts back to her _Love That Baby!_ persona. She giggles and dashes down the table towards the members of the cast. “Now I’m Baby for good and everyone will love me again!”

Mary Dahl all but launches herself at Todd Baker and June Winthrop, forcing the two into a group hug while her armed thugs push Tammy Vance and Brian Daly in towards the other three actors. Mary Dahl giggles, while the rest of the cast looks absolutely terrified—not only of “Baby Doll” but of Miriam and of the two armed criminals.

“We’re going to have so much fun!” Mary all but shrieks as she steps back from her “family.”

As the childlike actress hops back down the table towards the highchair the Dark Knight silently reaches out and touches Robin’s shoulder before she points at the hostage actors. When the young hero nods Batwoman touches the Question’s shoulder and gestures towards the thugs. Finally the Dark Knight gestures to herself then points to Mary Dahl. When both the Question and Robin nod and Batwoman starts making her way across the walkways and beams so that she is above Mary Dahl, who is clapping her hands happily as Miriam places an almost comically large birthday cake in front of the deranged actress. As the Dark Knight moves into place Robin and the Question position themselves above the hostages and the thugs and wait for Batwoman’s signal.

Miriam reaches into her pocket and pulls out a small lighter. Before the red heded woman can flick the lighter on Batwoman gestures to the other heroes and drops from the ceiling. The Dark Knight lands beside Mary Dahl and Miriam, Robin lands next to Brian Daly and the Question lands practically on top of the two thugs. One of the armed men goes crashing to the ground, his gun still clenched tightly in his hands, while the other topples over, loosing his grip on his gun, which goes skidding along the ground and ends up next to Robin. Robin kicks the gun at his feet away and moves to deal with the criminal who dropped it, as the Question deals with the man who didn’t drop his gun.

“Miriam!” Mary Dahl screams as she manages to evade Batwoman’s attempts to capture her. The red headed woman all but throws herself between the actress and the Dark Knight… and proves herself a pretty good fighter. Although Miriam is keeping Batwoman’s attention and focus away from the childlike actress, Mary Dahl isn’t running away or hiding from the three heroes. Instead she’s watching from the sidelines and cheering on her personal assistant, without paying any real attention to what the Question and Robin are doing.

Because of this all three women are surprised when the Question just reaches over and grabs Miriam’s arm, pulling her away from Batwoman and forcing her to focuses on himself and Robin. As the red headed personal assistant starts to fight with the other two heroes, Batwoman turns towards Mary Dahl.

“No fair!” Mary Dahl screams before she runs away, the Dark Knight following close behind her, leaving the Question and Robin to deal with the hostages and Miriam. “Baby Doll” ends up leading Batwoman away from the _Love That Baby!_ sets, towards the office building and down into a basement. Mary is fast—not fast enough to actually lose Batwoman—but fast enough to stay a good distance in front of the Dark Knight. When Mary Dahl finally stops running the two women have reached a dead end and the actress has managed to pick up a handgun, which she points at the Dark Knight

The “dead end” the two women end up in appears to be Mary Dahl’s bedroom—there a large pink princess bed in one corner, the sort that little girls who love princesses and ponies dream of, piled high with dolls and stuffed animals. However what catches Batwoman’s eye is not the bed and it’s dolls, but the impromptu wallpaper of the room. Near the bed the “wallpaper” is comprised of photographs and articles focusing on _Love That Baby!_ while the rest of the room is covered with photographs of women. Actresses, models, advertisements, photos clipped from newspapers … the only thing that links the photographs is the fact that they all show beautiful _adult_ women. Batwoman can see several photographs of Rachel Wayne at various events, including the photograph of her dancing with Clark at her birthday party the previous night. Some of the photographs are unaltered, but a few have Mary Dahl’s head stuck on top of another woman’s body.

Standing slightly apart from the wall, opposite the princess bed, is a freestanding mirror which looks like the kind of mirror you’d see in a circus’ funhouse. The mirror has been warped so that it curves and distorts a person’s reflection—making you look tall and thin… it’s obvious that, at least to Mary Doll’s eyes, this mirror reflects something approaching the woman she would have become if not for her medical condition.

“Why couldn’t you leave me alone?!” Mary Dahl all but screams, her body heaving with the force of her sobs as she points her gun at Batwoman. “I wasn’t going to hurt them! I just wanted us to be a family again!”

“But it’s not real.” Batwoman replies as she takes a slow step forward, one hand reaching out towards Mary even as she prepares to dodge if the actress fires the gun.

“It could be!” Mary screams as she fires at Batwoman, who manages to get herself out of the way of the bullet by rolling to her right… which moves her closer to the warped mirror. “You don’t understand!”

Mary Dahl takes one hand off the gun so that she can gesture at the photographs that cover the walls. As she does this her voice shifts, abandoning it’s childlike qualities and sound like the adult woman she really is.

“You got to grow up! You got to be a woman while I’m… I’m this _thing!_ ” Once again the actress fires and Batwoman dodges—ending up directly behind the mirror. When Dahl turns to follow the Dark Knight’s movement with her gun she ends up facing the mirror straight on.

“See?” Mary Dahl asks, lowering the gun slightly as she reaches up with one hand to wipe away the tears which are rolling down her child like cheeks. “That’s… that’s me in there, the _real_ me! There I am…”

With a shaking hand Mary Dahl reaches out towards the mirror—towards her distorted reflection. Behind the mirror Batwoman closes her eyes and breathes in deeply as she prepares to dodge another bullet.

“But… but it’s not really real, is it? Just made up and pretend like my family and my life and _everything else!_ ” Mary Dahl screams. “Why couldn’t you just let me make believe?!”

Baby Doll pulls the trigger on her gun—firing straight at the mirror. The warped glass shatters as the bullet hits it, leaving Batwoman exposed as the glass falls to the ground. However, before the Dark Knight can do anything more than shield herself from the flying shards of glass the gun falls from Mary Dahl hands as the actress starts to sob.

“I’m sorry.” Batwoman whispers, stepping forward, over the broken pieces of the mirror. She kicks the gun away with her foot as the former actress covers her tear stained face with her hands.

“I… I didn’t mean to.” Mary Dahl whimpers as Batwoman kneels down next to her, reaching into a pocket on her utility belt for a pair of zip tie handcuffs. Before she can pull them out Mary Dahl reaches forward, pulling Batwoman into a desperate embrace and resting her head on the Dark Knight’s shoulder… just like a child.

In the distance Batwoman can hear the police sirens. She doesn’t bother getting out the handcuffs, instead she simply wraps her arms around the sobbing broken woman and starts walking towards the approaching sirens. Outside the warehouse in which Mary Dahl had attempted to create her own little world the Question is silently leaning against the police cruiser which Commissioner Gordon and Detective Montoya are standing in front of. Robin is sitting on the hood of the car next to the faceless hero from Hub City, watching as the crooks that Mary Dahl had hired are shoved into the back of police cruisers and the kidnapped actors are checked over by paramedics.

When Batwoman emerges from the warehouse—carrying Mary Dahl like the former actress is in fact five years old—she walks straight through the police officers who are investigating the scene, towards Jim Gordon. Without a word passing between the Police Commissioner and the Dark Knight, Jim steps forward and opens the door of the police car that Robin is sitting on, allowing Batwoman to place “Baby Doll” inside.

“How bad is it?” Gordon asks as he closes the door.

“Low to minimum security at Arkham.” Batwoman replies. “If you can arrange it, then send her to another mental hospital.”

Gordon nods as the Dark Knight turns away from him and the former actress. As she turns the Question stands up, tipping his hat to Rene Montoya as Robin hops up from his seated position and off the car so that he is standing next to the Dark Knight. As Gordon turns to give orders to his officers the three heroes fire off their grappling hooks and—from the police officer’s point of view—vanish into the night.

 

_Author’s Note: Sorry for the delay in the latest chapters. I’ve had a busy life recently and a **lot** of writer’s block on this and my other fanfics._

_This chapter is adapted from the B:TAS episode “Baby Doll” which is **amazing** and which I highly recommend._

_There is now a Tumblr account for not only Scilicet… but for the entire Rachel Wayne Universe. There’s a bunch of extra info on various things, notices for when I update and a place to ask me any questions about this AU that you can think of. [You can find that tumblr here.](http://rachel-wayne.tumblr.com/)_


	36. Ecce Homo

_Ecce Homo = Latin for “Behold The Man”_

For reasons that he does not elaborate on, the Question had used his own car to get to Gotham as opposed to the Justice League’s teleportation system. Before meeting up with Batwoman and Robin at the Monarch Theatre the faceless hero had stashed his car in a back alley a few blocks away—so Batwoman finds herself driving back towards the Theatre, her attention fixed on the road as the hero from Hub City informs Robin of the sinister true purpose of aglets.

By the time that the Tumbler reaches the alley where the Question has stashed his car—a beat up blue Pontiac GTO with a missing license plate—Robin has actually fallen asleep in the back seat. As soon as the car is parked the Question climbs out and, after a second’s hesitation, motions for the Dark Knight to follow him before he gently closes the door and walks around to the front of the Tumbler, which is facing the front of his car.

“I wanted to ask you about one of your ‘rouges gallery’.” The Question is sitting on the hood of his car, with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands steepled in front of his featureless face.

“Which one?” The Dark Knight asks, crossing her arms in front of her as she leans against the hood of the Tumbler.

“Jonathan Crane.” The Question replies. “I don’t understand why the ‘Scarecrow’ runs his organization from his cell at Arkham Asylum. In the past he has demonstrated that he can escape—so why doesn’t he?”

Batwoman’s arms slowly uncross and drift down to his sides, allowing her cape to close around her as she takes a deep breath. Batwoman opens her mouth to speak—hesitates for a second—then changes her mind, tossing aside the lie which she had almost told and going with something that more closely approaches the truth.

“During the attack on the Narrows Jonathan Crane became the enemy of a very dangerous and very powerful man.” Batwoman explains in a whisper. “That man has a very… _complex_ moral code. While the Scarecrow is inside of Arkham he is safe, Crane knows this, although he does not know exactly how powerful his enemy is.”

 “This man—Crane’s enemy—who is he?” The Question asks.

“He calls himself Henri Ducard.”

“Calls himself?”

“I don’t believe that is his real name.” Batwoman sighs. “Have you heard of the League of Shadows?”

“I have heard rumors, whispers of their involvement in various crimes… but not much actual information. I had assumed that they were more myth then reality.” The Question replies, one of his hands moving to rub thoughtfully at his chin. “I take it that Ducard is connected with the League?”

“The head of the League is a man named Ra’s Al Ghul. Henri Ducard is his right hand man.” The Dark Knight informs the Question. “Crane is Ducard’s enemy, so Crane is the League’s enemy.”

“What about you?” The hero from Hub City asks, gesturing towards Batwoman with the hand that had been rubbing his chin. “Are you Ducard’s enemy?”

“It’s complicated.” Batwoman sighs. “I’ll get back to you, okay?”

“No problem.” The Question replies as he slowly stands up and reaches up to tip his hat to the Dark Knight. “Till next time Batwoman.”

“Thank you for your assistance Q.”

“Anytime.” The Question replies as he turns away from the Dark Knight and heads towards the driver’s seat of his car. Batwoman watches the faceless hero climb into his car and drive away before she gets back into the Tumbler and heads back towards Wayne Manor.

Dick Grayson wakes up in the Cave… but only because Rachel gently shakes him awake so that the boy can change out of his Robin suit and into a pair of Superman pajamas which Alfred has brought down for him. The Wayne family butler starts to clean and put away the various pieces and equipment associated with the Batwoman and Robin suites while Rachel finds herself carrying a very sleepy Dick Grayson up to his bedroom—where Ace is waiting on the bed for his two humans. When Rachel tucks Dick into bed the dog manages to find his way under the covers and into Dick’s arms… it isn’t hard for Rachel to slip away from her ward and her pet.

As soon as Rachel Wayne closes the door to her bedroom behind her she starts checking her arms and legs to see if any shards from the mirror Mary Dahl had shot had managed to slip past her armor. Luckily there are no new cuts and only a few bruises on her arms and legs which are probably from the fight outside the Monarch Theatre. As Rachel pokes at one bruise experimentally—wondering if she should go get an ice pack before going to bed—she hears the sound of footsteps in the hallways.

Specifically Rachel hears the sound of _two_ people coming down the hallway towards her and Dick’s rooms. As the footsteps draw closer Rachel pulls out a batarang and slowly inches towards the doorway—which she’d left cracked open so that Ace could get into her bedroom if he wanted too. When she is close enough Rachel cautiously peers out into the dimly lit hallway… only to sigh in frustration when she recognizes the man who is walking a few steps behind Alfred Pennyworth.

Fighting the urge to growl Rachel shoves the door open, steps into the hallway and—without hesitating—chucks a batarang at Henri Ducard’s face. Alfred doesn’t even flinch as the boomerang like weapon flies past his head towards Ra’s Al Ghul, who easily catches the batarang with one hand.

“You have a visitor Miss. Wayne.” Alfred dryly informs his employer as Henri calmly inspects the batarang.

“Thank you Alfred. I believe that will be all for tonight.” Rachel sighs, reaching up to run a hand through her hair before she gestures towards the open door of her bedroom. Alfred nods silently and heads back the way he had come while Ra’s Al Ghul steps out of the hallway and into the bedroom, placing the batarang in her hand as he passes by the billionaire.

“Good evening beloved.” Henri almost whispers as Rachel closes the door to her bedroom. The leader of the League of Shadows looks like he has just come from a formal party—he’s wearing a black three piece suit, with a dark grey collared shirt and a black tie. There is a pair of black gloves in one of Henri’s pockets and a dark green scarf—with a border of black and gold in a geometric pattern—draped over his shoulders. In his right hand Ra’s Al Ghul holds a black walking stick with a polished silver handle—Rachel has no doubt that there is a sword hidden inside the cane.

“What do you want?” Rachel asks as she leans against the door to her bedroom. Next to Henri the billionaire looks like a street rat—she’s wearing tattered grey sweatpants, a black wife beater and her feet are bare. Her hair is still damp from the quick shower she’d taken after changing out of the Batwoman suit and she’s still holding a batarang in one hand.

“A man in Saint Petersburg has an item I desire.” Henri replies. He is standing only a few feet away from Rachel—in the center of the bedroom’s open space—his hands rest on top of his cane and his eyes are focused on the billionaire.

“So why don’t you get your League to steal it?”

 “Because I have thought of a more… _elegant_ approach to my problem.”

“And how does this involve me?” Rachel sighs.

“The man is throwing a party and I find myself in need of a ‘plus-one’.” Ra’s Al Ghul informs her.

“…you want me to be your _arm candy?_ ”

“Well—I believe that ‘Matches’ Malone would be better suited for such a gathering—but yes, I want you to be my ‘arm candy.’”

“And why exactly should I help you?”

“My dear Detective—surely there must be _something_ that you desire, something that I can aid you with in exchange for your help in this matter.”

 Rachel Wayne hesitates for a second—not because she needs time to think about what she wants from Ra’s Al Ghul, but because she needs to word her request so that Henri can actually agree to her terms. The Dark Knight wants to say “ _Leave me alone.”_ But she knows that the debt that Henri believes he owes her will not allow him to agree to any term that far reaching.

“You’re right Henri, there is something I want.” Rachel finally replies. “I don’t want you, or your people, in my home. Leave your letters and gifts in my mailbox, not on my desk or in the cave or anywhere else in this home. If you want to talk with me then leave a note and I’ll meet you in Gotham. The only time I want you or any member of the League of Shadows on this side of the gates is when I’m not here and you want to visit our son’s grave.”

 “Agreed.”

Once again Rachel Wayne finds herself staring at the leader of the League of Shadows, this time in shock. The Dark Knight had not believed that Henri would agree—she’d expected to argue for at least twenty minutes and end up with Ra’s Al Ghul only agreeing to _one_ of her demands… Henri agreeing to all of her demands is worth assisting her ex-lover with recovering whatever it is he wants from the man in St. Petersburg.

“Alright then, when and where do you need me?”

“I have reserved a room for in St. Petersburg.” Henri explains, taking a business card out of his pocket. Most of the card is taken up by a gold and blue logo—the letters E and H written in cursive inside an oval. Beneath the logo _Grand Hotel Europe_ is written in gold alongside a telephone number. “A key will be waiting at the front desk for Charlotte Malone. We should depart from the hotel no later than 6:45 PM—I expect to arrive at 6:30.”

“I’ll be waiting.” Rachel replies as she takes the card from Henri. “Goodnight Ra’s—I trust you can show yourself out?”

“Of course.” Ra’s Al Ghul nods to the Dark Knight before he heads towards the door to her bedroom—only to pause the second that his hand touches the knob. “Oh and Detective? Wear white.”

Rachel does not verbally reply to Henri’s request—although one of her eyebrows creeps upward in an unspoken request for explanation… which Henri does not offer her. Instead the leader of the League of Shadows offers no explanation, he simply opens the door and vanishes into the night.

The Dark Knight sighs and runs a hand through his hair as she heads over to her bed and sits down on the edge. Fighting the urge to just flop back and fall asleep Rachel reaches over towards her bedside table and grabs the cell phone she’d deposited there before she’d gone down to the cave and put on the Batwoman suit. The cell phone that Alfred always carries—even on the rare times that Rachel manages to get him to take a day off—is the first number on her speed dial. (If not for Lucius Fox it would be the _only_ number on both her speed dial and her phone.) The phone rings only once before Alfred picks up.

“How may I be of assistance Miss?”

“Matches is going to St. Petersburg tomorrow.” Rachel pauses to yawn. “Wake me up at seven?”

“Of course Miss Wayne.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

There isn’t much white in Matches’ wardrobe… or in Rachel’s wardrobe for that matter. Matches is more of a jet black and blood red king of girl and Rachel has never been a fan of white—it’s too easy to stain. There are certain parts of Gotham—such as the seedy bars that Matches tends to frequent—where the very _air_ would turn anything white a brown-yellow after only a few minutes of exposure.

Because of this Rachel only owns a few white shirts—mostly white collared dress shirts with a few white t-shirts and wife beaters that she works out in. Charlotte Malone “owns” exactly two white dresses… however one of those dresses has a stain that look suspiciously like blood, even though it’s actually from some red wine at the Iceberg Lounge. Luckily the remaining white dress is both unstained and “up-scale” enough for the party in St. Petersburg.

So, the morning after the Question, Robin and Batwoman helped the Gotham Police to capture Mary Dahl, Rachel puts that dress in a garmet bag, which she puts in a suitcase with a pair of shoes and her Batwoman armor hidden in a secret pocket. She pulls on one of Matches’ usual outfits—tight shirt, even tighter jeans and high heels—and heads down to the cave where she keeps the makeup and facial prosthetics which transforms Rachel Wayne into Charlotte Malone.

Alfred gives Rachel a ride in one of their more discrete cars to an alley downtown where she uses the Justice League teleport system to travel to St. Petersburg without having to take a long a boring plane ride. One second Rachel is standing behind a liquor store in Gotham and the next she’s next to the Grand Hotel Europe garbage bins in St. Petersburg.

No one sees her arrival and—as Ra’s had promised—Charlotte finds a key waiting for her at the front desk, along with a bellboy who is all too happy to take her bags up to what turns out to be the most luxurious suite in what appears to be the most luxurious hotel in the city.

Once she is alone in the suite Rachel wastes no time in changing into her dress—it’s a white silk evening gown, with long sleeves. The material is cut so that it hugs Matches’ body and flows out around her knees to create a modest train. Around the sleeves and neck of the dress there is a thick strip of fake fur—the trim on the neck of her dress replaces the top of the sleeves and almost makes it look like she’s wearing a fur wrap.  She keeps Ra’s necklace on and adds a diamond necklace with matching dangling earrings—Rachel is styling her hair into a sort of messy up-do which leaves a few locks loose in the front on either side when the door to the suite opens… without having to look Rachel Wayne knows that the footsteps she can hear entering the suite belong to Ra’s Al Ghul.

“You’re early.” Rachel remarks as she steps out of the bathroom and heads towards her suitcase to grab her shoes—since her dress covered her feet Rachel had chosen simple white Marry Janes with just enough of a heel to give her the gait of a woman wearing heels.

Ra’s Al Ghul is wearing the same suit that he had worn the previous night when he’d visited Wayne Manor—when he catches sight of Rachel in her Matches’ Malone getup  a smile appears on his face. As he approaches her Henri reaches into the pocket of his suit jacket and pulls out a small black jewelry box.

“These are for you.” Ra’s informs Rachel, offering her the box, which contains a pair of simple pearl teardrop earrings. As Rachel slowly raises one eyebrow Henri adds an explanation: “It’s part of my plan, Detective.”

“No matching necklace?” Rachel asks as he takes the jewelry box from Henri and replaces her earrings with the pearls.

“No.” Henri replies, slowly shaking his head. “I would appreciate if you removed your’s.”

“Part of the plan?”  Rachel sighs as she removes said necklace and Ra’s Al Ghul nods.

“Tonight I am Henri Ducard—Ra’s Al Ghul’s right hand man. Our host, one Alexi Pleshakov, is hosting a party for the ‘refined’ section of St. Petersburg’s underworld. He invited the man we have stationed here and that man passed the invitation on to me.”

“So if you’re second in command of the League, what does that make me?” Rachel asks as she puts her necklace and earrings back into her suitcase and turns towards the nearest mirror to inspect her disguise.

“An unknown.” Henri replies, as the slightest bit of a smirk appears on his face. “To Mr. Pleshakov and the guests of his party you are an _exceptionally_ attractive woman who does not wear a wedding ring.”

“So I’m basically a walking talking distraction.” Rachel laughs softly. “You still haven’t explained why I have earrings but no necklace.”

“Last night I presented you with those earrings and a matching pearl necklace. Today, while I attended to business, you amused yourself in the city.” Ra’s Al Ghul replies, turning towards the door to the suite and gesturing for Rachel to follow him out of the room and into the elevator. “You were shopping at the Souvenirs Fair across from the Cathedral of the Savoir on the Spilled Blood when a man snatched them off your neck.”

“Let me guess, Pleshakov controls the thieves in that area.” Rachel replies, a smirk appearing on her face as the elevator arrives in the lobby of the Grand Hotel Europe.

“Exactly.” Henri returns the smirk as he wraps an arm around Rachel’s waist.

The Dark Knight slowly blinks once as she allows herself to slip into the role of Charlotte Malone. “Charlotte” loosely wraps one arm around Henri’s shoulder and places her free hand over the place where his tie is tucked beneath his waistcoat. A dazzling smile appears on her face and she tilts her head towards Henri so that she can glance “flirtatiously” at him through her eyelashes.

“You look beautiful tonight.” Henri smiles, turning towards Rachel and pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“Such a charmer.” Rachel replies, covering her mouth as she forces herself to giggle like a school girl. “I can never quite tell when you’re telling the truth and when you’re lying.”

“I don’t lie to you beloved.” Henri whispers as they step out of the hotel and head towards a black limo which is waiting for them. The chauffer holds the door open and soon the two are seated inside the limo, which pulls out into the St. Petersburg traffic when Henri raps on the floor with his cane.

“So are you going to tell me what it is you’re trying to steal from Pleshakov?” Rachel asks as she stares out the window of the limo and attempts to pretend that she can’t see Henri’s reflection in the widow, that she can’t feel his eyes on the back of her neck.

“It’s pearl necklace.” Ra’s Al Ghul replies as he rests his hands on top of his cane. “A very special pearl necklace.”

“So Pleshakov stole a pearl necklace and now you’re stealing it from him?”

“Yes and no—Pleshakov acquired the necklace through… a _semi_ -legal sale. He does not know the true value of the necklace in question.”

“So what is it’s ‘true value’?”

“Incalculable.” Henri replies without a second’s hesitation. “So how have you modified ‘Matches’ for tonight?”

“Charlotte is the pampered daughter of moderately wealthy parents from Gotham. The Malones are wealthy enough to give Charlotte a taste for the finger things in life but not wealthy enough to stand out from the crowd.” Rachel replies.

“Let me guess—we ran into each other at a Wayne function?”

“Yes, a charity event which Miss Wayne was unable to attend. I spilled my drink on you, we started ‘talking’ and—because you’re _such_ a gentleman—you called me up the next day and asked me out to dinner. What do you think?”

“Very well done Detective.” Henri remarks as the limo slows to a stop in front of a large house. The leader of the League of Shadows steps out first, staring up at the house for a second before turning back to offer Rachel his hand, which she accepts. The chauffer shuts the door behind the Dark Knight and Henri tells him something in Rachel _thinks_ is Arabic—the chauffer replies in the same language and bows to Ra’s Al Ghul before he returns to the driver’s seat and driving the limo away. As the car departs Henri offers Rachel his elbow and the two heads towards the mansion’s front door…

The interior of Pleshakov’s mansion looks like a Romanov palace—all white and gold, with pillars, chandeliers. The walls and ceilings are covered with intricate details, mostly around the windows, doors, pillars and arches. On either side of the mansion’s front door there is a young woman wearing a French maid outfit complete with fishnet stockings and black high heels. The women seem to be acting as coat check and marking people off a guest list—one of the women asks in very polite Russian for Ra’s Al Gul’s name before she gestures to the doorway directly across the room from the mansion’s main door.

The double doors—which are propped open—lead to a grand staircase that descends into a large ballroom. On the right side of the staircase several French maids man a food and drink table, while additional maids circulate throughout the room with trays held high and flirtatious smiles on their faces. On the left side of the staircase an orchestra plays classical music for the guests to dance to. As Ra’s Al Ghul and Rachel start to walk down the stairs a young man wearing a butler’s uniform loudly announces the arrival of “Henri Ducard and Charlotte Malone” causing several heads throughout the room to turn and watch the two descend the large staircase. However only one man approaches them—a thin man, dressed in a dark grey suit, who has very noticeable cheekbones, slightly long dark red hair and unusually light blue eyes.

“Sir.” He whispers, nodding his head respectfully towards Henri before offering the Leader of the League of Shadows his hand, which Henri shakes.

“Charlotte, meet Sergei Novikov, head of operations here in St. Petersburg. Sergei—Charlotte Malone.”

“A pleasure.” Novikov nods to Rachel before returning his attention to Henri. “Our host has not arrived—he likes to appear fashionably late with a girl on each arm.”

“You have been most helpful Sergei—I will make sure to mention you favorably to Ra’s Al Ghul.”

“Thank you sir.” Sergi replies as the smallest hint of a smile appears on his face. “Is there anything else I can do for you sir?”

Henri seems to consider this for a second as his gaze slowly sweeps over Pleshakov’s other guests. His gaze lingers on “Charlotte” for a second before returning to Sergi. In an quick but elegant move Ra’s Al Ghul releases his grip on his cane as he tosses it up and catches it at a lower point on the shaft, enabling him to offer the cane’s handle to Sergi.

“Hold this for me will you?” Henri asks as Sergi takes the cane from him. “I believe that I owe Charlotte at least one dance—so she’ll forgive me for leaving her alone all day.”

Henri leads them over to where the other guests are dancing as one song ends and another begins. When they reach their destination Ra’s Al Ghul steps back, bowing deeply to Rachel, which prompts her to curtsey. With these formalities dealt with, Henri steps forward and wraps his right arm loosely around Rachel’s waist, as his left hand takes hold of her right hand, raising it to the appropriate height. The Dark Knight takes a deep breath as she wraps her left arm around Henri’s waist and allows him to take the lead once again.

Rachel had learned how to dance when she was fifteen, during the worst winter in Gotham’s history. The record breaking snowfall had made it impossible for Rachel and Alfred to get out of the Manor and knocked out the power lines. Despite the fact that Rachel usually only left the mansion about once a week and despite the fact that they had a generator which kept the heat going and a few lights on, Rachel had been all but climbing up the walls by the second day.

So Alfred had tossed out whatever lesson he’d been planning on teaching that day and proceeded to teach Rachel every dance he could remember… which was not only a lot of dances but a lot of variations of those dances. The few dances that Alfred hadn’t taught her that winter—specifically how the tango and whatever it was that people in clubs and college parties called “dancing”—Rachel had taught herself in her first few months of college.

Now Henri’s arm is wrapped around her waist, his hand resting confidently against the small of Rachel’s back, her hand firmly but gently gripped in his. There’s a fine tremor running through Rachel’s body—she can feel it and she’s sure that Ra’s Al Ghul can, even if it’s not visible to anyone else in the ballroom. It’s so hard to keep herself apart from everything—to keep an invisible wall between Charlotte Malone and Rachel Wayne—to keep everything from becoming too real.

For most of the dance Rachel manages to keep her eyes unfocused, to appear that she is looking adoringly at Henri Ducard when really she is staring at nothing. While every moment seems to drag by agonizingly somehow the dance also does not seem to last for very long—it is as if Rachel blinks and then the music that they are dancing to slows and comes to a graceful stop.

Just as the music ends Henri’s arm tightens around Rachel’s waist ever so slightly—just enough that the Dark Knight finds herself being sort of pushed up against the leader of the League of Shadows. The two of them are so close to each other that Rachel can feel Henri’s breath on her lips, so close that Rachel can’t help but actually look at Ra’s Al Ghul. She takes a shaky breath and feels herself leaning closer—feels Henri’s arm tightening around her waist, his hand gripping her’s more strongly…

“Ladies and Gentlemen—your host Alexi Pleshakov.”

The words snap both Rachel and Henri back to something approaching reality. They separate and turn towards the staircase, where the entire party’s attention is focused on a tall thin man who has a busty blond woman all but attached to each side.

Alexi Pleshakov is almost gaunt in appearance—well defined cheekbones, a strong chin. His hair is a mix of dull brown and grey and he’s got a very unkempt beard and moustache—it almost looks like Pleshakov had a goatee which he’d forgotten to shave for several days. Pleshakov is a good head taller then Ra’s Al Ghul, had a single silver hoop earring in his right ear and is dressed in black jeans, a black t-shirt and a dark blue suit jacket. Despite the two blond woman, Pleshakov looks more like a college professor then a Russian mobster.

Alexi Pleshakov is instantly surrounded by party guests eager to shake his hand or to whisper a handful of words into his ear. Rachel watches with a very practiced sort of detached interest as Sergei Novikov appears at Henri’s side, offering the leader of the League of Shadows his cane.

“Who are the women?” Henri inquires as the takes his cane back from his associate and starts making his way across the ballroom—with Rachel gently gripping the elbow of his left arm and Sergi walking to Henri’s right.

“No one important—Pleshakov has a ‘partner’.” Sergi explains. “Practically everyone in St. Petersburg knows that the women are part of his ‘image’.”

As Henri, Rachel and Sergi reach the bottom of the stairs the cluster of guests around Pleshakov starts to disperse due to the man’s encouragement for said guests to eat, drink and be merry. The two women whom Pleshakov had entered with break off and make their way through the crowd, each one trailed by several guests. When Sergi steps forward to greet Pleshakov several of the guests who are still hanging around their host take a step back, clearly recognizing Sergi Novikov. Once the two have exchanged pleasantries Sergi turns towards Rachel and Henri—who steps forward and extends his hand to Pleshakov.

“Allow me to introduce my boss H—” Before Sergi can complete his introductions the Russian cuts him off.

“Ducard—isn’t it? Henri Ducard?” Alexi Pleshakov asks as he shakes Henri’s hand.

“It is a pleasure to meet you Mr. Pleshakov.” Henri’s Russian is flavored with the slightest hint of a British accent.

“Ah, but who is your charming dance partner?” Pleshakov asks as he turns towards Rachel, extending his hand—from beneath the sleeve of his jacket she can see a think silver chain bracelet.

“Charlotte Malone.” When Rachel offers her hand to Alexi Pleshakov he presses a quick kiss to a spot just above her knuckles.

“Well you dance wonderfully Miss Malone.” Pleshakov remarks, a smile on his face.

“Oh I just follow Henri’s lead.” She smiles, doing her best to act flustered and somewhat clingy. “I’ve never been too good at dancing.”

“Nonsense, you must forgive her Mr. Pleshakov you must forgive her _Alexi,_ Charlotte is still quite shaken up from an unfortunate event earlier today in St. Petersburg.”

“What sort of unfortunate event?” Alexi Pleshakov asks.

“Last night Henri gave me a necklace—a pearl necklace.” Rachel explains in a voice just barely above a whisper as her free arm rises to touch the space on her neck where the pearls ‘should’ lie. “I was wearing them today when a man just snatched them off my neck.”

“Where did this… _unfortunate_ incident take place?”

“The Souvenirs Fair—near the Cathedral of—” Rachel begins, but Pleshakov cuts her off.

“The Cathedral of the Savior on the Spilled Blood? Miss Malone, I am very sorry that your visit was tarnished by such an… _unfortunate_ experience.” Anger slips into Alexi’s voice—not anger directed at Rachel, but rather at whoever had snatched Charlotte Malone’s necklace. Alexi Pleshakov takes a deep breath and turns towards Henri. “Mister Ducard, allow me to apologize.”

“Whatever for?” Henri replies, leaning on his cane and fixing his attention on Pleshakov.

“That area of town falls under Pleshakov’s control.” Sergi explains to Henri is a whisper that Rachel can only just make out.

“Ah.” Henri nods thoughtfully before he elegantly shrugs his shoulders. “These things… do happen.”

“Nevertheless, please allow me to make amends—you said it was a pearl necklace?” Alexi asks Rachel, who slowly nods. “I must admit that I have a fondness for pearls—Henri, why don’t you pick out necklace from my collection?”

Henri Ducard seems to contemplate this for a second before he nods his agreement and gestures for Pleshakov to lead the way—the Russian mobster leads Rachel and Henri towards an almost hidden door on the right side of the ballroom’s staircase. The door opens on to a hall which is no less ornate then the ballroom and contains another staircase, this one appearing to lead up to a second stairway. To Rachel’s right, though an open door, she can see a large library, with towering bookshelves, dark wood and rolling ladders. Pleshakov leads Rachel and Henri to an almost completely hidden door underneath the staircase.

First the grey haired man pulls a ring of keys out of a pocket of his suit, carefully selects one, and uses it to unlock a small cupboard that is also hidden in the wall near the door. This reveals a sophisticated security panel which—after a few seconds—opens the door, revealing a smaller staircase leading down. This staircase curves once before running into another door which is opened in the same fashion as the first one.

The room that Pleshakov reveals to Henri and Rachel seems to be part wine cellar and part safe—along one wall there are racks of wine bottles and a few large barrels, however most of the room is dedicated to Pleshakov’s collection of jewels and jewelry. Both are displayed as if they are in a museum, not a safe—the jewels are laid out in boxes lined with black velvet, the jewelry which does not lie on black velvet are hung on various display stands. The jewelry and jewels are grouped together by material—all the emeralds in one place, the rubies in another and so on.

The section devoted to pearls does not seem to be much larger or smaller then any of the other sections—but the display is quite dazzling. Present in Pleshakov’s collection are pearls of every shape, size and color. They are put together in every way imaginable—bracelets, long strands, simple necklaces, pendants, earrings… Rachel finds herself staring in fascination at the jewelry as Henri and Pleshakov inspect the necklaces together.

“Ah, what about this one?” Henri asks Pleshakov as he gestures at a particular string of pearls, drawing’s Rachel’s attention to the necklace in question.

It is not a very long necklace—only about twenty inches long, a single strand of pearls with a small silver chain fastener. The pearls are also not particularly large—the central pearl of the strand is about an inch in diameter and the rest of the pearls are of varying smaller sizes. There’s nothing that Rachel can see which separates this pearl necklace from hundreds of other necklaces which Rachel has seen and from dozens of other pearl necklaces Pleshakov possesses. Sitting on the black velvet next to the necklace there is a small card which identifies the origin of the necklaces as a New York auction which had occurred roughly three months ago—Rachel assumes this is how Henri knows he is requesting the correct necklace.

“Are you sure?” Pleshakov asks Henri. “I have much nicer necklaces—this was but a spur of the moment purchase.”

“This one most closely matches what was stolen.” Henri replies. “I do not wish to take advantage of your generosity.”

“Then it is your’s.” Pleshakov agrees. The man reaches out and takes the necklace form it’s velvet bed and hands it to Henri Ducard, who instantly moves so that he is in front of Charlotte Malone and fastens the pearl necklace around her neck.

“You look beautiful beloved.” Ra’s Al Ghul whispers before he leans forward and presses a kiss to her lips, with one hand resting on her shoulder, his finger running gently along her neck next to the necklace. A shiver races through Rachel’s body and when Henri pulls back Rachel finds that her heart is beating faster than usual and she feels the need to take several deep breaths.

As Alexi Pleshakov leads Henri Ducard and Charlotte Malone out of his vault he regales the man he believes to be the second in command of the League of Shadows with some long complex store whose thread Rachel can’t quite follow. When they return to the ballroom, where the party is in full swing, Rachel finds herself accepting a glass of wine from Sergi Novikov, who makes a point to mention how beautiful the pearls look around her neck.

Without Alfred to assist her and no handy plant to empty her glass into, Rachel finds herself stuck with the wine, which she drinks slowly so as to discourage anyone from offering her another glass or a nip of something stronger—this is Russia after all, so there is a great deal of vodka being consumed by Pleshakov and the members of his party.

Henri spends most of the party at Pleshakov’s side with Sergi hovering nearby. The three men spend their time partaking in very carefully worded small talk with the occasional foray into more serious discussion of business—at some point Sergi and Pleshakov make an appointment to discuss business at a later date—so that Sergi and Henri could contact Ra’s Al Ghul. Once this is decided the three return to more light hearted subjects, many of which seem almost specifically designed to get Rachel involved in the conversation… luckily this all ends up being the sort of inane small talk which Rachel is used to encountering at parties and, before the small talk can start driving her insane the party starts to thin out as guests depart.

Soon enough Rachel Wayne and Ra’s Al Ghul are comfortably seated in Henri’s limo and heading back to the Grand Hotel Europe. Rachel feels drained—as if she’d just gone several rounds with the Joker—and is looking forward to taking off the makeup and prosthetics which had enabled her to be Charlotte Malone. She is also eager to get some sort of explanation from Henri as to why he is so interested in this particular strand of pearls.

However Rachel bites her tongue and holds off on the questions until the two of them return to their suite. Henri also passes the ride back to the hotel, the walk across the lobby and even the elevator ride up to the room in silence. When the two reach the luxurious suite Rachel finds herself reluctant break the silence—she sits down on the suite’s couch and kicks off her shoes, glad to be out of the heels, even if they hadn’t been very high heels. Before she can stand up and go in search of a washcloth and the appropriate chemicals to removes her makeup she finds both being offered to her by Henri.

As Rachel Wayne removes Charlotte Malone’s face Ra’s Al Ghul sits down on an armchair across from her—he has not removed his shoes but, as Rachel finishes cleaning her face, he leans his cane against the arm of the chair he is sitting in. As Rachel reaches up and starts to remove the small mountain of bobby pins which had kept her hair up all night she finds herself looking down at the pearl necklace and once again wondering why Henri was so interested in them. As the last bobby pin comes out of her hair and join’s it’s companions on a small table to Rachel’s left the billionaire reaches up to remove the necklace—only to have Henri reach out and stop her from doing so by taking hold of her hands.

Confused, Rachel stares up at Henri, who has gotten out of his chair and is now standing in front of her. After a second Ra’s Al Ghul releases her hands and Rachel tilts her head slightly to one side.

“I don’t understand. This necklace is why you came here—why we came here—isn’t it?”

“Yes—but it is your’s beloved.”

Rachel freezes and slowly blinks as he attempts to process what Henri has just told her.

“So… you need me to steal my birthday present?”

“Yes and no. This—” Ra’s Al Ghul reaches out and gently touches the necklace, his hand warm on Rachel’s practically bae neck. “This is your’s detective. I am merely returning it to you.”

“What do you mean it’s—” Rachel freezes mid sentence as she remembers something from long ago and more than half a world away. Her heart in her throat Rachel all but runs to the nearest mirror and stares at the necklace, her hand slowly rising to run gentle fingers over the pearls that adorn her throat. She remembers a strand of pearls, a black box and a question she’d once been asked…

_Do you think your mother will like them?_

“These… are these?” Rachel stutters, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes as she stares at Henri’s reflection in the mirror, watching as the leader of the League of Shadows moves to stand at her side.

“They are your mother’s pearls.”  Henri whispers. “I am sorry that it took so long to find them.”

 

TBC

 

_Author’s Notes: The Grand Hotel Europe is a real hotel in St. Petersburg.[Here’s their website.](http://www.grandhoteleurope.com/web/stpetersburg/rooms_suites.jsp)  I ended up making up the layout of the room since I couldn’t find any decent photos of the rooms… although knowing Ra’s the room is probably the most expensive and luxurious one in the place._

_The bit about the Souvenirs Fair across from the Cathedral of the Savior on the Spilled Blood was due to info I got[from this website.](http://luxuryexperience.com/destinations/europe/saint_petersburg,_russia.html)_

_[This is Charlotte Malone's dress](http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mdkj6qA6jg1qkz3v2o1_400.jpg) and [this is what her hairstyle looks like.](http://www.lhairstyle.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/09/06/2009-stylish-updo-hairstyle-from-taylor-swift-2-326.jpg)_

_Alexi Pleshakov’s appearance, personality and “voice” are somewhat based off a Russian History teacher I had at college._


	37. Nec Possum Tecum Vivere, Nec Sine Te

**_Nec Possum Tecum Vivere, Nec Sine Te = Latin for “I Can Live Neither With You, Nor Without You”_ **

 

_“They are your mother’s pearls.”  Henri whispers. “I am sorry that it took so long to find them.”_

After a second’s stunned silence a broken sob escapes from Rachel’s lips. The Dark Knight clutches at the necklace with one hand, while the other curls around her waist as she sobs—but despite feeling as if she is breaking apart inside Rachel finds that she has no actual tears to shed—even though each time she closes her eyes she can see blood on the asphalt of Crime Alley.

Rachel’s hand tightens around the pearl necklace. In her mind she can hear the sound of the necklace snapping after Joe Chill had grabbed hold of it, she can see the pearls rolling across the asphalt as her mother was shot. She can hear her father’s last words— _Rachel, it’s okay_ —she can hear him gasping for breath as he bled out while trying to comfort his daughter— _Don’t be afraid._

 Her mother’s pearls feel like a ball and chain around her neck—she’s starting to hyperventilate, as the walls she has built up over the years shatter as she all but reverts to a scared eight year old girl whose parents had just been murdered in front of her eyes. Rachel’s entire body feels weak—as if she’s about two seconds away from throwing up and then passing out—and then Ra’s Al Ghul reaches out to place what is intended to be a comforting hand on her shoulder. In the blink of an eye Rachel Wayne is gone—replaced by Batwoman—who grabs Henri’s wrist in her left hand as she turns to face the leader of the League of Shadows.

“Why are you doing this?” Rachel asks as she digs her nails into the skin of Ra’s Al Ghul’s wrist. “I destroyed the Monastery, I destroyed your plans for Gotham, I almost _killed_ you—so why do you keep helping me? Why do you keep stalking me when all I want is for you to leave so I can get on with my life?!”

“I owe you a debt beloved.”

“I am not your _beloved!_ ” Rachel screams as she throws Henri’s wrist away from her—which makes the man take a step back. “You don’t owe me _anything_ Henri! What happened wasn’t your fault.”

“I killed our son.”

“No you didn’t. His death wasn’t your fault. It… it wasn’t my fault.” For a second Rachel’s anger is replaced with shock at the idea, as if in a daze she finds herself blink as she continues to speak without being really aware of what she is saying.  “It wasn’t anyone’s fault. There’s no one to blame, no one to punish and there’s nothing… there’s nothing we can do about it.”

“You mean there is nothing you will _allow_ me to do about it.” Henri growls. “It is my fault that Crane had that toxin, my fault that I did not prevent him from harming you. But you—you will not allow me to fix it, when you know that it is well within my power and when you have nothing to lose and everything to gain!”

Without thinking Rachel steps forward and punches Henri Ducard—amazingly enough the leader of the League of Shadows is unprepared for such an attack. Rachel’s fist actually connects with Ra’s Al Ghul’s right cheek, sending the man staggering back for a half a second before Rachel reaches out and grabs hold of his shoulders, pulling him around and slamming him into the nearest wall.

“Oh, and why stop there?” Rachel hisses. “Why not bring back my parents? Why not bring back Dick’s parents?”

“I could—but you don’t want me to and I don’t understand why. Why not save them? Why not allow your father a chance to hold his grandchild?” Suddenly Rachel finds himself being grabbed and flipped around, so that she is the only one being pressed up against the wall by Henri. “Why not give Richard Grayson his family back?”

“Because it wouldn’t be right.” Rachel whispers, her palms resting against the wall behind her. “Everything ends Henri—it’s the way of the world.”

“It doesn’t have to be.” Henri stops gripping Rachel’s left shoulder and cups her face, running his tumb against her face and wiping away a tear that the Dark Knight wasn’t aware she’d shed. “I— _we_ could change that beloved.”

Rachel closes her eyes for a second and takes a deep breath before she replies to Henri’s unspoken offer.

“I’m not your _beloved_.” As she hisses Henri’s favorite term of endearment Rachel knees  Ra’s Al Ghul in the groin—or at least she attempts to. It’s clear that Henri was expecting some sort of outburst from Rachel after he used the word “Beloved”, since he quite easily dodges the attack on his family jewels. As he dodges Rachel finds herself half-falling and half-being pushed to her right as Ra’s Al Ghul dodges to her left. Rachel hears some part of her dress rip as she lunges at the leader of the League of Shadows, managing only to latch on to the sleeve of Henri’s tuxedo as she lashes out at the older man.

It’s not a real fight. If it was then Rachel would have pulled out her batarang and Henri would have either retrieved his cane (and the sword inside) or pulled out a smaller knife which Rachel is certain he has hidden somewhere on his person. But it’s not a real fight, so the weapons remain sheathed and—all things considered—both Rachel and Ra’s Al Ghul are pulling their punches. The Dark Knight finds herself… not “spacing out” exactly, but at the very least being sucked into the rhythm of a fight between two—well not _equals,_ but at least near-equals.

When Rachel Wayne snaps back to reality she is sitting on top of Ra’s Al Ghul, who is pinned to the ground. Rachel’s dress is torn, her right sleeve is missing entirely and there’s a slit almost all the way up to the left side of the dress. Rachel has one of Henri’s wrists gripped tightly in each hand—there’s sweat on Ra’s Al Ghul’s brow and a scratch on his cheek which is slowly turning red as it starts to bleed.

“Beloved…” Ra’s Al Ghul whispers. Rachel wants to snarl at the man beneath her, but when she opens her mouth to speak all that comes out are a few panting breaths which make her body shake.

Rachel’s entire body aches, not just from the fight, but from the _longing_ which this entire night has installed in her, the longing for a long gone time when everything was so… so _simple_. The truth is that, despite herself, Rachel Wayne _wants_ —so suddenly and painfully that she can’t come up with a reason not to—or at least can’t come up with one quick enough to keep herself from leaning down and pressing her lips against Henri’s.

It’s strange how the action does nothing to diminish her desire—in fact it’s rather like being stabbed. Rachel reacts involuntarily, one hand moving to keep herself upright as the other cups Ra’s Al Ghul’s cheek. As the kiss continues Henri somehow manages to sit up—leaving Rachel in his lap and listening to the sound of her dress ripping again. Now both of Rachel’s hands curl around Henri’s head, her fingers tangling in Henri’s hair. One of Ra’s Al Ghul’s arms warps around her waist while the other rises to cradle her head… neither Henri nor Rachel is really in control o the kiss—but neither is trying to escape from the kiss or the sudden embrace.

Rachel isn’t sue who moves first—she simply finds herself tugging at the coat of Henri’s suit as he starts pulling it off himself. She ends up tearing the suit jacket—ripping it practically in two as Henri wraps his arms around her and somehow gets to his feet. Rachel instinctively wraps her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. She can feel his muscles through his clothes as the leader of the League of Shadows carries her towards  the suite’s bedroom as if she is a child… all the while continuing the kiss.

They only separate when Henri reaches the bed, which Rachel finds herself deposited on as Henri pulls back to remove his tattered suite jacket. While Rachel does her best to catch her breath Henri proceeds to unbutton his waist-coat—or at least he tries to unbutton his waist-coat. It doesn’t take long for Ra’s Al Ghul to lose his patience and just pull at the waist-coat, causing buttons to fly off in all directions as he discards the now torn waist-coat and Rachel reaches out to him.

She gently takes hold of Henri’s shoulders and pulls until the older man leans forward—this time Rachel offers him control of the kiss and Henri’s accepts. Ra’s Al Ghul is standing up, he has to lean down to kiss Rachel as she sits on the edge of the bed. As they kiss she reaches up and fumbles her way through his tie and three buttons of his shirt before she gives up and just starts tugging—Henri keeps the kiss going even as he helps her to discard both tie and shirt.

As soon as the shirt falls away Rachel’s hands reach out towards Henri. Her fingers seek out and quickly find the scars that she was once familiar with before they move on to learn the shape of the new ones. Without intending to the Dark Knight ends up pulling Henri down against her—he has to throw out an arm to keep himelf from falling on her. Henri slowly drags his free hand down Rachel’s side as he bites at her neck, drawing a pleasured whimper from the Detective. When Henri’s hand encounters the holster on Rachel’s thigh and the batarang it conceals as he takes hold of the weapon and—without hesitation—uses it to cut Rachel’s dress, easily splitting the fabric without the sharp blade of the batarang ever touching Rachel’s skin. Soon all that holds the tattered remains of her dress on are the sleeves and all that hides Rachel from Henri’s eyes are a pair of black lace hip huggers and a matching strapless bra.

Without blinking Rachel takes the batarang from Henri’s hand and uses it to slice through the man’s belt—when this is accomplished the weapon is of no further use to the Dark Knight, so she throws it at the far wall of the bedroom. There is a smirk on Henri’s face when he pulls back from Rachel and steps out of his pants while Rachel removes herself from the remains of her dress. The batarang—which is now imbedded in the bedroom wall—appears to have torn the elastic in Henri’s boxers along with the belt. Despite this development Rachel does not avert her eyes from the older man.

“Henri…” Before Rachel can say anything else Henri cuts her off by cupping her cheek with one warm hand.

“This is not a beginning beloved.” Ra’s Al Ghul whispers, his hands running over Rachel’s scars, lingering on the one which she’d received from the crooked Arkham guard. Rachel finds herself shivering as his fingers find a particularly sensitive area of the scar and she clings to Ra’s Al Ghul, one arm looping around the man’s neck while the other clutches at his right shoulder. As Rachel’s eyes drift closed Henri lifts her up so that her back is pressed against the bed’s headboard, with Ra’s Al Ghul kneeling in front of her.

Once this is accomplished the leader of the League of Shadows directs his attention back to the lovebite he’d created on Rachel’s neck as he undoes her bra and tosses it off to the side. Henri gently massages the newly exposed skin and Rachel finds herself matching Henri’s movements with the rhythm of her breathing—when Henri squeezes just this side of painful the rhythm stutters and a gasp escapes from her lips. When Ra’s Al Ghul leans down to lap at and suck Rachel’s nails dig into the skin of his shoulder  and her entire body shudders. By the time Henri has done the same to both sides Rachel is all but thrusting against Henri and one of her arms has fallen fro the man’s shoulders to grasp at the bed sheets.

Ra’s Al Ghul glances up at Rachel and the Dark Knight makes her move—she launches herself forward, forcing Henri to his back and ending up on his lap. With one of Henri’s wrists in each hand Rachel leans down and captures his lips as she presses her lower body against his. After a second’s stunned silence Henri maneuvers so that he has a leg between Rachel’s and manages to escape from Rachel’s grip on his wrists and entwine his hands with her’s.

While the kiss is enjoyable Rachel feels as if she’s somehow behind Henri—so she shifts her attention to his neck and focuses on creating a love bite that can match the one Henri had given her. She’s so focused on this task and the noises her actions are drawing from Henri that she doesn’t notice when one of Henri’s hands escapes from her’s. What she does notice is when Henri’s free hand slips between her underwear and her skin and rubs two fingers in just the right place.

A screech escapes from Rachel’s lips as her body shakes. Henri lets out a pleased sort of hum and repeats the motion—this time drawing a sob from Rachel. Her body goes limp and Henri removes his hand so that he can tear her underwear off, which gives him room to thrust a finger in—a finger which quickly becomes two as Rachel sobs and presses against the older man, her hands digging into the bedspread, her head resting on Ra’s Al Ghul’s chest.

It takes a second for Rachel to gather the strength to act, but eventually she manages to reach up and kiss Henri—this causes the man to pause for a second, allowing Rachel to catch her breath so that she can speak.

“Tell me you have a—” She gasps out before Henri cuts her off.

“Yes.”

Rachel whimpers and slowly blinks before she replies.

“Get it.”

 

**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**

When Rachel wakes she is alone in the hotel bed with Henri is standing off to her right. He is wearing a new dark grey suit and straightening his tie as he looks in a nearby mirror. Rachel is wearing her mother’s pearls, the League necklace Henri had given her and… well nothing else. As she works up the nerve to speak Rachel slowly sits up, keeping the bed’s sheets up so that she is covered. As she watches the leader of the League of Shadows Rachel finds herself reaching up to touch the League medallion the older man had given her.

“I meant what I said earlier.” Rachel whispers, her gaze falling to her lap as she speaks. “I can’t—this can’t be a new beginning.”

“I know.” Henri replies, without looking away from his reflection. “You have someone else.”

“What?” Rachel stares at Ra’s Al Ghul with wide eyes. The leader of the League of Shadows, who has turned to face Rachel, has the slightest bit of a smirk on his face. “How do you—I mean, _I didn’t even_ —”

“You are not the only detective in the world beloved.” Henri replies, cutting Rachel off. For some reason the Dark Knight finds herself laughing—although her laughter ends up sounding much more like barely repressed sobs then real laughter.

“So you’re still going to call me that?”

“Always.”

“Does our deal still stand?” Rachel asks, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes.

“Of course.” Ra’s Al Ghul whispers as he steps forward and—as Rachel’s tears start to fall—he reaches out to cup her face. It’s strange, it feels almost like there’s a layer of ice around Rachel’s heart—a layer which is starting to crack and break apart like a pond on the first warm day of spring. As she looks up at Ra’s Al Ghul Rachel feels like there is something unspoken passing between them… something which makes Rachel lean forward as Henri leans in and presses a kiss to her lips.

As Ra’s Al Ghul and Rachel Wayne kiss his hand rises to press against her hand—which presses the League of Shadows necklace against her chest, right above Rachel’s heart. At first Henri’s grip is almost painful—but the pain only lasts a few seconds, as Rachel’s eyes drift closed once more. The Dark Knight can feel tears slowly running down her cheeks as Henri lets go of her hand and steps away. Rachel does not open her eyes, choosing instead to bow her head and listen to his footsteps, which move further and further away until Rachel hears the door to the suite open and then close.

With a soft sight Rachel opens her eyes and lets go of the necklace that Henri had given her so long ago in the League of Shadows monastery… it suddenly feels so much lighter then it ever has before. The moment that Rachel stands up she forgets about the necklace entirely—the is no need to push it from her mind or to concentrate on something else. The suitcase that Rachel brought with her from Gotham is sitting at the end of the bed—a quick check reveals that her suit is still inside, along with the jeans and shirt that Matches had worn for the journey from Wayne Manor to the Grand Hotel Europe. Rachel pulls the outfit on and doesn’t bother to leave the hotel room before she teleports back to Gotham—back to Alfred and back to Dick Grayson.


	38. Filius Pars Matris Est

**_Filius Pars Matris Est = Latin for “A Son Is Part Of The Mother”_ **

(Author’s Note: Thanks to Lillykit627 for the Latin correction!)

 

When Rachel Wayne returns to Gotham she does not set her sights on Wayne Manor-instead he turns her gaze towards the secondary cave, where she trades her mother’s pearls and Matches’ dress for Batwoman’s cape and cowl. With Henri Ducard’s present safe in the Tumbler’s equivalent of a glove compartment the Dark Knight heads out into the unseasonably warm Gotham night, intending on performing a short patrol of her city, to ensure that nothing has gone wrong during her time in Russia.

Despite the fact that she encounters little to no criminal activity Batwoman finds herself increasing the length of her patrol until, quite suddenly, she realizes that four hours have passed since her return from St. Petersburg and—during all that time—the Dark Knight has only encountered two criminals—a drug dealer that she’s sent off to Blackgate several times and a drunk businessman who thought it was a good idea to try and get his money back from a prostitute.

After one final check of the police radio frequencies Batwoman finally abandons the silent streets of Gotham and makes her way back to the cave underneath Wayne Manor, which is silent and dark, with only a few dim lights left on because Alfred refuses to believe that Rachel doesn’t need them in order to find her way around the cave. Rachel does not bother to turn on any more lights, choosing instead to shed the trappings of Gotham’s Dark Knight in the dark and don the sweatpants and large t-shirt that Alfred has thoughtfully left out for her.

Alongside the clothing is a note informing Rachel that dinner is waiting for her in the kitchen—with a PS from Dick at the bottom which tells her to clean her plate “or else” and is sighed with her foster son’s initials and a smiley face that is sticking it’s tongue out. With a soft smile on her face Rachel obeys Dick’s orders, heading to the Manor’s kitchen and quickly devouring a plate of what turns out to be steak and mashed potatoes before she heads upstairs, to the area of the Manor where her and Dick’s bedrooms are located.

Upon reaching the hallway that separates the two rooms Rachel turns towards Dick’s bedroom, the door of which has been left slightly ajar. Her foster son is sprawled out across the bed like some sort of human-starfish hybrid, taking up far more space then such a small boy should logically be able to. Curled up on top of the sheets next to Dick’s waist is Ace, who lifts his head up to stare sleepily at Rachel for a second before he yawns and settles back down. For a moment Rachel simply watches the boy and the dog, before eventually turning away and heading towards her own bedroom, where she doesn’t bother to turn on the lights and pauses only to place her mother’s pearls on her bedside table before she climbs into bed and falls into a dreamless sleep.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Rachel wakes up about a half-second before Alfred Pennyworth opens the door to her bedroom—an action which is followed almost instantly by Ace rushing through the opened door and leaping up on to his Master’s bed. With a yawn Rachel reaches out to scratch between the dog’s ears before she slowly sits up. As she does this Alfred crosses the distance between door and bed, moving much more slowly than Ace, who has flopped over on to his back so that Rachel can scratch his belly. The Wayne family butler is carrying a serving tray in his hands, on which a few pieces of toast, a very large cup of coffee and a copy of _The Gotham Gazette_ has been placed.

“Any meetings today?” Rachel asks, snagging a piece of toast from the tray as Alfred places it on her bedside table.

“No—however Mr. Fox has sent over several documents for your inspection. They’re in your study.” Alfred replies. “I take it that Miss Malone’s trip to St. Petersburg was…”

Alfred suddenly falls silent as his gaze lands upon the string of pearls that Rachel has placed on her bedside table. Silently the Dark Knight reaches over and picks up Martha Wayne’s pearls, which he holds for a second before offering them to the man she thinks of as her father.

“Are these…” Alfred trails off as he hesitantly reaches out and accepts the pearls from Rachel, who nods silently in response. For a moment neither of the two speaks and the only sound in the room is that of Ace chomping on crumbs that have fallen on to the bed from Rachel’s piece of toast.

“Put them somewhere safe.” Rachel whispers, breaking the silence as she pushes Ace away, which allows her to stand up. As the Wayne Heiress heads towards her walk in closet Alfred nods to himself before he slips the strand of pearls into a pocket of his jacket. “Is Dick up yet?”

“Master Grayson is practicing in the gym.” Alfred replies. “He grew weary of waiting for you to wake up.”

 

“ _Grew weary?”_ Rachel asks, blinking in confusion as she pokes her head out of the closet, a frown on her face as she looks around for the nearest clock. “What time is it?”

“Twelve forty five.” Alfred replies as Rachel quickly ducks back into the closet and pulls on some exercise clothes before swiping the cup of coffee off Alfred’s tray and heads off to join her son in the gym.

The Manor’s gym had, originally, been the location of the Manor’s servants’ quarters but, as time went on and the Manor needed fewer permanent staff and as more of those staff chose to live elsewhere, the area had fallen into disuse. Rachel’s Great-Great-Grandmother (Isabelle Wayne) had converted the space into a ballroom… one which had gotten very little use after Isabelle grew too old and arthritic for dancing, since the ballroom wasn’t easily reached from the Manor’s main entrance or from the dining room.

Eventually Rachel’s Grandfather (Daniel Wayne, nee Redmayne) had expanded the Manor’s dining room so that it could serve as both ballroom and dining room, which in turn had lead to the ballroom becoming little more than a storage space until Rachel had installed several pieces of gym equipment shortly after her return to Gotham. When Richard Grayson had come to live at the Manor Alfred had completed the transformation of ballroom into gym by adding several pieces of gymnastic equipment—including still rings, uneven bars and a high bar—along with a trapeze and high wire set up.

When Rachel reaches the gym Dick is playing around on the uneven bars, showing the same enthusiasm that most kids would reserve for a new video game. The young boy notices Rachel’s arrival almost instantly and lashes her a huge smile as she starts stretching. By the time that the Dark Knight is ready Dick has finished his impromptu routine on the uneven bars and is waiting on the practice mat, ready to spar with his foster mother.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

That evening—just as Rachel, Dick and Alfred are finishing a dinner of homemade pizza in the Manor’s kitchen—Batwoman’s Justice League communicator goes off, interrupting Dick’s story about a time when one of the Circus’ elephants had decided to steal the Ringleader’s hat in the middle of a show. Rachel gestures towards her communicator, which causes both foster son and butler to fall silent as she reaches up to answer the call.

“Batwoman.”

“There’s been an explosion and break in at Edgepoint labs.” The Martin Manhunter informs her. “Wonder Man and the Flash are already on the scene.”

“And you want me to join them.” The ‘why’ is unspoken by the Dark Knight but not unnoticed by J’onn J’onzz.

“David has requested the aid of a League member with greater detective skills.”

“Tell them I’m on my way. Batwoman out.” Rachel replies, ending the call as she turns towards Dick and Alfred, who have put away the leftovers and started working on the dishes. While Alfred remains at the sink he gestures for Dick to join Rachel as she starts making her way towards the cave.

“So what’s up?” Dick asks as he wipes his hands, which are wet from the dishwater, on the side of his jeans.

“Break in at Edgepoint Labs. Wonder Man and the Flash asked for a backup.” Rachel explains, the Dark Knight starting to creep into her voice. “I’ll keep one of our channels open so that you and Alfred can monitor from the cave. We’ll go on a patrol as soon as I get back.”

For a second there is silence as the two step into the elevator which connects Rachel’s study to the cave below.

“Did the Flash really get into a race with Superman?” Dick asks after a moment’s hesitation.

“It was for charity.”

“So who won?”

“No one.” Rachel replies as she steps out of the elevator and heads over towards the changing room and starts putting on her suit. “The Weather Wizard interrupted the race.”

“Well then who is faster?” Dick asks as he sits in the swivel chair in front of the cave’s computer and starts to slowly spin around.

“I don’t know.”

“But I thought Batwoman knew _everything!_ ” Dick mock-gasps as Rachel steps out of the changing room, fully dressed save for her cowl, which she has not pulled up.

“I think that both of them are too fast to have a real race… or at least a _safe_ race.” Rachel replies, reaching past Dick so that she can access the computer’s keyboard. “Also it would probably depend on if Superman was allowed to fly or if he had to actually run.”

For a moment both Batwoman and Robin fall silent as Rachel sets up the connection between her Justice League communicator, the various sensors in her suit and the cave’s computer, so that the young boy can listen in on anything that happens at Edgepoint. When the Dark Knight finally steps back the young boy reaches out to place a hand on his foster mother’s shoulders as he breaks the silence.

“Stay safe.”

“Of course.” Batwoman replies, leaning over and pressing a kiss to the top of Dick’s head as she wraps her arms around her foster son in a warm embrace. After a second she steps back and pulls up her cowl, nodding silently to Dick before she heads over to the Tumbler. As the powerful car races out of the cave the elevator doors open once again and Alfred Pennyworth steps out, a serving tray with two large cups of hot chocolate in his hands.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The Watchtower’s teleporter deposits the Dark Knight in a non-descript hallway where the Flash and Wonder Man are speaking with an older woman in a lab coat and a young man in what looks like a security guard’s uniform. While the two members of the Justice League are not at all startled by Batwoman’s sudden arrival, the employees of Edgepoint Labs jump slightly at the flash that the teleporter creates as it deposits the Gotham hero in front of them. Wonder Man makes some final remark to the woman in the lab coat, who nod in response and heads off down the hallway, the guard following close behind and occasionally glancing over his shoulder at the Dark Knight.

“What’s the situation?” Batwoman asks as she moves to stand to David’s left, placing herself between the Amazon Prince and the Scarlet Speedster. Before either hero can answer her the Dark Knight finds herself wincing and reaching up towards her ear as a horribly loud crackling sounds comes out of her Justice League communicator.

“They think that’s because of an electrical experiment going haywire due to the explosion.” The Flash explains as Batwoman mutes the communicator in order to stop the noise. “I had to run almost ten miles out to get anything but static.”

Batwoman nods in understanding and—her actions hidden by her cape—taps out a code on a piece of armor on her leg. After a second the code repeats—only this time it’s coming from the communication system in her cowl which links the Dark Knight to the cave.

“What happened?” Batwoman asks, turning her attention towards Wonder Man.

“There was an explosion in a lab over there.” David explains, gesturing off in the opposite direction from where the scientist and the guard had gone. “At first security thought that it was an accidental explosion in a chemical lab, but one guy noticed that several security cameras went down _before_ the explosion in a lab that shouldn’t have been effected by anything short of a bomb falling on the building.”

“Three guards are missing—one was in the area on patrol when the blast went off, the other two went to investigate afterwards and haven’t reported back in.” The Flash adds. “Edgepoint’s security made a sweep of the labs near the explosion, but they haven’t found anything—or anyone—so they’re doing a sweep of the entire complex now.”

“So why call in the League?” Batwoman asks.

“We volunteered.” Wonder Man explains as he leads the two heroes off towards the lab where the explosion had occurred. “Guess who happens to be one of Edgepoint’s financial backers?”

“Luthor?” The Dark King guesses. Edgepoint is a bit outside of her area of expertise—since it’s not located in Gotham and hasn’t come up in connection with anything in Gotham—but she can remember encountering the company a few times in her business with Wayne Enterprises.

“That why I’m here instead of Supes.” The Flash remarks. “Luthor’s got a nasty habit of stashing kryptonite anywhere he’s invested money and not telling his business partners about it.”

The hallway is almost featureless—there are no plants, no windows and no bulletin boards. Every few feet a door with a large reinforced glass window provides a glimpse into either a laboratory of an office like area, with a small grey plastic plate to the right of the door identifying the room by number and—occasionally—with a person’s name or a group of names underneath that number.

After it is clear that Wonder Man and the Flash are done with their explanations Batwoman’s question is again answered—this time by a young boy sitting on the edge of the Cave’s computer desk as the Wayne Family Butler effortlessly hacks into several different security systems.

“There’s no way that static was an accident.” Robin informs the Dark Knight. “We’re guessing a _very_ powerful EMP or something similar. It’s making all but a few channels almost completely useless.”

“However we have managed to circumvent this and are receiving audio and visual—there is an unaffected channel near the rage of static interference.” Alfred Pennyworth explains. “To anyone without the tech in those ‘bat ears’ of yours our conversation sounds like low level static leakage.”

As the older man finishes his explanation Wonder Man leads the other two members of the Justice League around a corner and Batwoman can instantly see the signs that something has exploded nearby… several of the overheard florescent lights which illuminate the hallway have either gone out, been shattered or fallen down, along with the occasional bit of ceiling.

In front of the three heroes a large hole has been torn into the wall which separates the laboratory beyond from the hallway they are in. Without saying anything to the other members of the Justice League Batwoman reaches into a pocket of her utility belt and pulls out a small scanner, which she proceeds to slowly move over the rubble from the explosion.

“What’s that?” The Flash asks, leaning over the Dark Knight’s shoulder to peer at the device in her hands.

“It detects residue from explosive compounds.” Batwoman explains as she frown at the readouts that the machine is displaying. After a second’s hesitation she moves to scan a different area of rubble.

While the Flash contents himself with all but hovering over Batwoman’s shoulder Wonder Man carefully steps around the two and into the lab itself—which does not seem as badly damaged as the wall. While several computers have been caught in the blast there are several tables near the hole in the wall upon which various pieces of glassware sit, unharmed and unbroken. As Batwoman adjusts the settings on her scanner the Flash moves over to join Wonder Man, although he focuses his attention on the destroyed computers.

“You think they were covering up data theft?” Flash asks as he peers at the ruined computers.

“Or destroying data entirely.” Batwoman replies, tucking the scanner back into it’s pouch and stepping over the rubble towards the Speedster, who kicks absentmindedly at the rubble… which draws Batwoman’s attention.

On several pieces of rubble and on the floor near the center of the explosion there is an odd sort of grayish dark green stain, almost like wet paint has been rubbed up against the surfaces. There’s even a semi-dried pool of liquid the same color as the stain a short distance away from the center of the damage, alongside several shards of glass… if not for the color of the stain the Dark Knight would swear that it was _blood_.

“Do you think the explosion was an industrial sabotage?” Wonder Man asks as he peers at the glassware.

“I don’t think it was an explosion.” Batwoman replies as she slowly scans her surroundings. “There’s no trace of explosive material anywhere in here. I think someone—or something—physically destroyed the wall.”

“ _Something?_ ” The Flash asks.

“I don’t know any humans who have blood _that_ color.” Batwoman remarks, gesturing towards the puddle as she heads off towards the other end of the lab… in the middle of the room there are several long tables, which hold the standard lab equipment—beakers, tubes, Bunsen burners—but towards the back of the lab, underneath large lights, there are several narrow planters, with what looks like rice plants growing inside.

“What were they researching here?” The Dark Knight asks as she inspects the plants.

“Something called GURT—‘genetic use restriction technology’.” Wonder Man replies and Batwoman resists the urge to swear… because she’s heard of that “technology” before. In fact she’d specifically forbid one of the more obscure areas of Wayne Enterprises from researching GURT in order to create “suicide seeds”—seeds that were genetically modified so that when they grew into plants they would create sterile seeds. As Batwoman stalks through the lab, towards the far corner where a large black curtain divides one section from another, she can hear the Flash explaining the concept to Wonder Man.

“But who would want to steal such seeds?” The Amazon Prince asks the Scarlett Speedster as Batwoman pulls back the curtain, revealing more planters with rice growing in them.

“I don’t think she wants to steal them.” Batwoman remarks as she glances up twaords the ceiling, not at all surprised when she sees the skylight which has been smashed open from the outside. Even from a distance she can see grey-green stains on the edges of the broken glass and window frame.

“She?” The Flash asks as he and Wonder Man start moving towards the Dark Knight—but instead of explaining herself Batwoman quickly spins to face the two, grabbing a batarang from her belt as she turns and—when she is in position—the Dark Knight throws the batarang between the two heroes, who turn as the projectile flies past them.

With a sickly sort of squishing noise the batarang imbeds itself in the middle of what looks like a human shaped mass of vines. The creature, despite having no visible mouth, lets out a high pitched shriek and thrashes about as the same grey-green blood like substance that Batwoman had found smeared on the rubble leaks from the wound.

As the first creature shrieks several of the rice plants on the table begin to grow and mutate—soon the three Justice League members are surrounded by humanoid vine creatures. The creatures themselves move rather slowly, but the vines which are not supporting their bulk move almost lightening fast, reaching out towards the heroes and wrapping around their limbs like boa constrictors.

The Flash does his best to doge the vines and draw them away from Wonder Man, who does his best to strike at the “bodies” of the creatures and avoid the vines which aren’t chasing after the speedster. Batwoman remains a short distance away from the two male heroes, although she keeps an eye on both of them, occasionally throwing a batarang at any vine which tries to sneak up on the two. The Dark Knight has a batarang gripped in each hand and she uses the projectiles like daggers, slicing at the bulky bodies of the creatures and chopping off as many vines as she can while avoiding their reach.

Despite their efforts it does not take long before the creatures overwhelm the three heroes with the sheer number of vines each one can produce. Wonder Man is the first one to go down—the creatures seem to realize that he’s not fast enough to run from them and, if they attack in force, not strong enough to tear apart the vines which wrap around him or tricky enough to avoid their grasp. The Flash is next—he’s trying to help David when several vines pounce on him, distracting him long enough for another pair to wrap around him and bind him tightly.

With two of the three heroes immobilized it doesn’t take long for the vine creatures to get the better of Batwoman—several vines rush her all at once, which allows a few to get past her batarangs and wrap around her wrists, where they squeeze until the Dark Knight is forced to drop the weapons, although she continues to fight. More and more vines wrap around Batwoman’s arms and legs. Then two thick vines slip down and twine around her utility belt before proceeding to tug in one direction as the vines binding Batwoman pull her the other way. The action draws a suppressed but still audible grunt of pain from the Dark Knight and eventually tears some part of her belt, causing it to fall away from her waist. The vines toss it away from the three members of the Justice League as they finishing binding the Gotham hero tight.

“You’re right Batwoman.” A voice rings out over the strange rustling noise the vines make as they move and several of the creatures sort of shuffle apart from each other, creating a gap in their racks and revealing a tall woman with a long red hair and eerie green eyes. There is a strange sort of green tint to the woman’s skin and what looks like _vines_ running through her skin like veins, complete with small green leaves sprouting from the vines and sprinkled through her hair. “I don’t want to _steal_ Edgepoint’s technology… I want to _destroy_ it.”

“Poison Ivy.” As Batwoman growls out the woman’s name she smirks, revealing a set of perfectly white teeth. The eco-terrorist is wearing what looks like an Arkham Asylum jumpsuit… or at least the remains of one. The sleeves of the jumpsuit have been torn off near Ivy’s shoulders, as have the legs below her knees, leaving her lower legs and feet bare save for the vines which decorate Ivy’s skin like some sort of delicate green tribal tattoos. “You’re supposed to be in Arkham.”

“Hannah’s not back yet and Harley’s still so _sad_ about that little prank the Joker pulled.” Poison Ivy replies, turning towards one of the vine creatures, which has a batarang imbedded in one of the thicker veins that make up it’s “body”. With strangely gentle hands the red haired villain removes the weapon from the mutated plant and tosses it to the side before running her hand over the “injured” area, an action which draws a noise that is disturbingly like a purr from the mutated plant.

“You mean the ‘little prank’ that you _helped_ him pull.” Batwoman replies, somehow managing to seem like she isn’t concerned about the fact that she is without her utility belt and quite thoroughly restrained by Ivy’s vine monsters—as are the other two members of the Justice League. “It’s odd… I thought you were Harely’s friend, not the Joker’s potted plant.”

Poison Ivy actually _hisses_ at the Dark Knight and her hair seems to puff up as the leaves that branch out from the vines in her skin stand on edge. Her hands ball into fists as she stalks towards Batwoman, until the two women from Gotham are only inches away from each other.

“I’ve always wondered what’s under that cowl of your’s…” Ivy practically purrs as one of her hands rises and—slowly, with an almost disturbing amount of restraint—the red head runs a finger along the edge of Batwoman’s cowl, her finger touching the black material and almost, but not quite, touching the Dark Knight’s skin. As Poison Ivy does this her blood red nails make a soft but audible noise as they scratch against Batwoman’s cowl. “Why don’t we find ou—”

The moment that Poison Ivy grabs hold of Batwoman’s cowl and tries to pull it off she shrieks in pain and the Flash can see electricity arching from the cowl to ivy’s hand. Poison Ivy holds her injured hand to her breast as she glares at the Dark Knight, who simply smirks back at the eco-terrorist.

“You actually booby-trapped your cowl?” Poison Ivy snarls. “And here I thought that Dent was just messing with me—well I can see one flaw in your design.”

With a smirk on her face Poison Ivy steps forward once more and—as Wonder Man, the Flash and Batwoman watch—she slowly licks her lips, which seems to give them an unnatural wet shimmer… this clearly disturbs Batwoman, who struggles fruitlessly against the vines holding her still in an attempt to back away from Poison Ivy’s advances.

“You don’t have anything to stop my poison.” Ivy whispers as she reaches out, placing one hand on either side of Batwoman’s face. As she starts to lean forward the Dark Knight suddenly stops struggling and the concern on her face vanishes, only to be replaced by a confident smirk that makes the red haired villain freeze.

“Oh, I think I do.” Batwoman replies, the faintest bit of laughter sneaking into her voice… and not five seconds later a blur of black, red and green descends from somewhere above and a green boot connects with Poison Ivy’s face.

As the eco-terrorist staggers back, clutching at her nose and howling in surprised pain the blur—which ends up being a young boy—flips backwards, away from the Poison ivy and hurls three small balls as he does so. Each ball hits one of the vines that are wrapped around the members of the Justice League and shatters upon impact, spilling a thick purple colored liquid over the vines and heroes. When the liquid hits the vines it turns into a noxious smoke that causes the vine creatures to howl in pain and wither, which means that they can no long bind the three heroes.

As Batwoman steps free from the dying vines which had restrained her the young boy—whom the Flash and Wonder Man recognize from descriptions in newspapers and whispered conversations around the Watchtower as Robin, the young boy that the Dark King has apparently decided to take under his wing—is at her side, Batwoman’s utility belt passing from his hands to his mentor’s in what seems like an instant. As Batwoman refastens the utility belt around her waist Robin reaches into his utility belt, detaching a pouch which he tosses at the Flash.

“Aim for the center mass!” Robin suggests, turning back towards Batwoman as the Scarlet Speedster opens the pouch to find more of the glass balls that the younger man had used to free them from the vines.

The Flash smirks and chucks a ball experimentally at a group of the vine monsters, as Wonder Man picks up two batarangs from the floor and starts ripping through another monster. As the vine monsters wither under whatever chemicals the glass balls contain the Scarlet Speedster throws another one—this time at a vine monster which was about to attack the Amazon Prince from behind. Meanwhile the Dark Knight and her protégée are focusing on Poison Ivy, who has recovered from the boot to the head and is trying to slash at them with her nails as she snarls and spits what the Flash assumes is poison due to the way that Batwoman and Robin avoid it.

As the last of the vine monsters fall to Wonder Man and the Flash’s borrowed weapons Robin dodges forward, not attacking Poison Ivy but rather purposefully making her try to attack him, which allows Batwoman to get in close enough to stab the eco-terrorist in the neck with something that looks like an EpiPen and which the Flash assumes is a modified version of whatever it is he’s been throwing at Ivy’s vine creatures. Whatever it is causes Poison Ivy to drop to the ground like a sack of bricks and keeps her either unable to move or unconscious while Batwoman slaps a pair of handcuffs around her wrists and Robin raises a hand to what must be a communicator in his ear and—from the sound of it—places a call for someone at Arkham Asylum to come and pick up Ivy.

Wonder Man and the Flash make they way across the lab—stepping over several dead and dying vine creatures as they do so—and the Scarlet Speedster offers the pouch and it’s remaining glass balls back to Robin… and takes the opportunity to inspect Batwoman’s protégée.

Robin’s outfit is very reminiscent of his mentor’s—he’s got what looks like the same segmented armor, with only a slight difference in the layout of the plates and the addition of colors beside black, black and more black which helps Batwoman live up to her nickname of “Gotham’s Dark Knight”. However the green, red and yellow of Robin’s suit is nowhere near the bright red and yellow of the Flash’s outfit or the red, white, blue and gold of Wonder Man’s. All of the colors on Robin’s suit are muted—the legs and arms are a dark green, the torso is a dark red and there’s a dull yellow utility belt around his waist and on the inside of his cape, which on the outside is the same black as his mentor’s. Instead of the Dark Knight’s cowl Robin’s face is covered with a domino mask which, the Flash realizes, is shaped so that resembles the Dark Knight’s batarangs and the searchlight that sits on top of the Gotham Police Headquarters.

“Not that I’m ungrateful or anything—but how did you get here? Or for that matter know that we needed help?” The Flash asks as Robin accepts the pouch from him and refastens it to his utility belt.

“I was listening in.” Robin explains, a smirk on his face as he looks up at the Amazon Prince and the Scarlet Speedster, who finds himself hoping that the Dark Knight’s sidekick is short for his age, or that he just looks small when compared with his mentor’s imposing figure because, dear god, the kind looks and sound so _young_ for someone who they’d just seen kick a villainess in the face and who—according to the newspapers—regularly beats up thugs in _Gotham_.

“The ears aren’t just for show, Bats has—”

Batwoman, who is setting up some sort of device with a needle on the end on Poison Ivy’s arm, makes a sort of muttered growling noise, which only makes the smirk on Robin’s face grow.

“I mean, _Batwoman_ has audio and visual in her suit. Poison Ivy was making that static—I managed to get it shut down before I came.”

“That still doesn’t explain how you got here from Gotham.” Wonder Man notes as he squats down to inspect one of the dead vine creatures and the Flash tests his Justice League communicator, revealing a blessed lack of ear splitting static.

“Oh she hacked the JL teleporters.” Robin replies as Batwoman straitens up, apparently having restrained Poison Ivy to her satisfaction, and turns her attention to her protégée, obviously checking to ensure that he is unharmed.

“What?” Flash squawks.

“If it makes you feel better I did receive permission from Superman and the Martin Manhunter to do so—albeit after I’d already done so.” Batwoman notes, finishing her inspection of Robin and turning her full attention to the other members of the Justice League.

“She created a program which allows for teleportation without storing the destination or origin in the logs on the Watchtower.” Robin adds, raising his arms over his head and leaning surprisingly far back as he stretches and turns ever so slightly towards the Dark Knight. “Arkham’s ready to take her back, I told them we’d bring her in.”

“Do we need to do anything with these things?” Wonder Man asks, gesturing towards the dead vine creatures.

“No, the compound in the glass balls and the lack of Ivy’s powers to support them will turn all of this into ash after an hour or so.” Batwoman replies, reaching down to tap at an electronic device on her utility belt.

“You’ll probably want to check for any booby traps that Ivy’s set up, she’s been leaving some nasty explosive surprises recently.” Robin remarks. “Luckily they tend to be normal explosive stuff, not weird exploding plants.”

“We’ll do a sweep for any nasty surprises.” Wonder Man promises as Batwoman reaches over and hauls a still out of it Poison Ivy to her feet. “It was a pleasure to meet you Robin.”

The young boy smiles and the Dark Knight’s lips twitch upwards ever so slightly as she nods in a silent farewell to the Amazon Prince and the Scarlet Speedster. Wonder Man is already turning to being his inspection of Edgepoint Labs as the Justice League’s teleporter activates, whisking Batwoman, Robin and Poison Ivy away.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Commissioner Gordon and Aaron Cash are the only members of the assembled Arkham Security Guards and Police Officers who don’t react to the arrival of the Dark Knight, her protégée and the still groggy but on the road to waking up eco-terrorist. The Justice League teleporter deposits the three a few feet away from the entrance to Arkham’s maximum security unit, right next to where the Arkham guards have wheeled out Ivy’s “transport pod”, a device that looks sort of like an iron lung made out of clear plastic and filled with the same gas which prevents Poison Ivy from using her powers inside her cell. Gordon and Cash are also the only ones who don’t stare at Robin when they realize that the Dark Knight has brought her protégée along to drop off Poison Ivy.

Resisting the urge to smirk at the stares that Robin is getting from some of the members of Arkham Security and the Gotham Police Batwoman pushes Poison Ivy forward, handing her off to an Arkham Security Guard and Medical Officer who quickly remove the temporary restraints which the Dark Knight had placed on the villainess at Edgepoint Labs and secure Poison Ivy inside the transport pad as she snaps back to consciousness (the gas is formulated to let Ivy be conscious, the injector Batwoman used to subdue her is not) and starts to curse and claw at the sides of the transport pod, which the Guard and the Medical Officer start wheeling towards Ivy’s cell.

“Ivy was trying to destroy Edgepoint Lab’s research into GURT and ‘suicide seeds’. The Justice League and Edgepoint’s security are still looking for three guards who went missing following her attack. They’ll keep Gotham PD informed of any developments.” Batwoman informs Commissioner Gordon, who nods in apparent satisfaction and gestures for his officers to move out, allowing Arkham Security control of the area once more.

“Your car pulled up two minutes ago, parked itself in the usual spot.” Aaron Cash informs Batwoman who nods in thanks and makes her way out of the Asylum and towards the Tumbler, Robin following close behind her.

“So are we still going to go on patrol?” Dick asks as he settles into the passenger seat and Rachel drives the Tumbler out over the bridge which connects Arkham to the mainland.

“I said we would, didn’t I?”

“You also said you’d be safe and then almost got squished by vines monsters and kissed by Poison Ivy.” Dick mutters as he restocks his pouch of anti-Ivy balls from the Tumbler’s store of gadgets and supplies.

“But I didn’t.” Rachel says, a smirk appearing on her face. “Besides, she only ‘almost’ kissed me because you took longer then I thought you would getting into place for that drop.”

“The room had been broken into and _exploded!_ I didn’t want to cause part of the ceiling to collapse and probably take me with it!” Dick objects. “Your standards are too high!”

“Not as high as my teacher’s were—at least we don’t spar on top of a partially frozen lake.” Rachel replies, finding herself both surprised and yet unsurprised how she can speak—albeit only a vague reference she doesn’t elaborate on—of Ra’s Al Ghul without being suddenly hyperaware of the pendant around her neck and without feeling a crushing heaviness in her heart.

“Only cause Alfred would kill you.” Dick mutters, rolling his eyes as the Tumbler reaches  the center of Gotham and Batwoman starts looking for a spot to park the car so they can head out on patrol.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Sorry for the long wait between chapters! I hit a period of writer’s block mixed with unemployment and then, when things cleared up a bit, I decided to do Nanowrimo. While I succeeded in the 50k goal I am still working on finishing up the first draft of my story (it’s about polyamourus amazons IN SPACE) thanks to even more writer’s block and ongoing employment and applying to (not actually but basically) graduate school. Oh, also you can blame Flight Rising, Christmas with the family (such a strange combination of drama and no drama) and knitting my dad’s birthday present for the lack of updates on all of my fanfics, not just this one.
> 
> Also If you want to be able to check (fairly) easily just what excuse I have for not writing currently you can always check out my tumblr (captain-rachel.tumblr.com) This update was prompted by someone commenting that I should update the fic, so you never know… your comment/note/whatever could be what gets me off my ass and writing again.


	39. Domum Inveni

_Domum Inveni = Latin for “I Have Found Home”_

 

“I would be happy to assist you with making Miss Wayne breakfast in bed—perhaps accompanied by a handmade card and a bouquet of flowers.” Alfred Pennyworth does not look up from the paperwork spread out on the coffee table in front of him as he speaks. The Wayne Family Butler is sitting on one of the couches in the Manor’s library, his attention divided between some paperwork—which his employer had requested he look over before it was signed and returned to Lucicus Fox—and Richard Grayson who is sprawled out on his stomach in front of the library’s fireplace, his schoolwork all but forgotten in front on the floor in front of him.

“Yeah, but that’s what _everyone_ does…” The young boy sighs as he rolls over on to his back, staring up at the ceiling. “I mean, it’s her first Mother’s Day. I want to do something special.”

“Understandable.” Alfred remarks as he highlights a section of text on the paper in front of him before looking up at his employer’s ward. “However as you still have a week until Mother’s Day I am afraid that I must insist that you put off thinking of gifts for Miss Wayne until _after_ you have finished your school work.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It’s a foggy afternoon and Rachel Wayne is sitting at the desk in her study, fingers flying over the keyboard of her computer as she writes up a revised version of a deal between Wayne Enterprises and a small tech company based out of San Francisco. The Billionaire has some of her favorite music playing, but that doesn’t prevent her from hearing the approaching footsteps of her ward, despite how the former circus performer is trying (and mostly succeeding) at moving silently down the hallways of the mansion.

The Dark Knight doesn’t react to the sound of the approaching footsteps, although a smirk does start to appear on her face as Dick slowly turns the door knob and pushes the door open just wide enough that he can peek through the crack. Rachel has no idea why her ward is spying on her, so she pretends not to notice his presence until she reaches a good place to stop typing.

“Nice try.” Rachel remarks as she turns to look at her ward.

“When?” Dick sighs, pushing the door all the way open and stepping into her study as Rachel leans back in her chair.

“Three doors down. Something wrong?”

“No… just practicing.” Dick replies, shrugging as he pokes at the carpet with one of his bare feet. “Any tips?”

Rachel frowns as she tries to figure out why the dark haired boy is lying to her—she can tell that Dick wasn’t “just practicing” but she has no idea what other reason he would have to spy on her.

“Walk toe to heel. You’ll have to practice for a while before you can do it properly, but once you get used to it you’ll make less noise.” She suggests. “Oh—and it sounds weird, but don’t look directly at your target.”

“Why?” Dick asks, glancing down at his feet as he practices walking toe to heel a few times, moving back and forth across Rachel’s study as he does so.

“When you look at the person whose attention you are trying to avoid then you get anxious—you start to worry and then you focus too much attention on _not_ making noise, which means you start making mistakes and are more easily detected.” Rachel informs her ward. “Practice walking and looking just to the side and you _might_ manage to get to one door down the hall before I hear you.”

“Might?”

“Well I am Batwoman after all.” Rachel smirks as Dick sighs dramatically and heads out of the room—walking toe to heel with increasing skill. When he reaches the door to Rachel’s study Dick makes a big show of closing the door behind him… but he doesn’t head off down the hallway until Rachel assures Dick that she knows he hasn’t gone anywhere by fake coughing.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

By the time that night falls over Gotham City and Batwoman finds herself driving the Tumbler out of the cave beneath Wayne Manor Dick Grayson—who is sitting in the tank like car’s passenger seat fully clad in his Robin suit and fiddling with a batarang—still has no idea what to get Rachel Wayne for Mother’s Day, despite having spent most of the day spying on his foster mother, pestering Alfred for suggestions and googling variations on the phrase “Mother’s day gifts.”

After a short patrol around the city at Batwoman’s side Robin finds himself making his way over the rooftops of Gotham on a semi-solo patrol to check out a few buildings which are on the list of Scarface’s potential new hideouts. It’s only a “semi-solo” patrol because, while it looks like Robin is on his own, Batwoman is only a short distance away—within shouting distance—close enough to assist the young hero should he need her assistance.

Robin is sitting on the top of an apartment building, hiding in the shadows of an old air-conditioning unit and using a pair of binoculars to peer at a former nightclub in the condemned building across the street when he hears something that sounds almost exactly, but not quite, like a flag fluttering in the breeze. Confused he glances up, one hand moving to pull out a batarang as he turns towards the source of the sound.

“…did you just fail at sneaking up on me while _flying?_ ” Robin asks, raising an eyebrow—or raising as much of his eyebrow as he can with his domino mask on—as he stares up at Superman, who awkwardly rubs at the back of his neck as he touches down on the rooftop next to the Dark Knight’s apprentice.

“I heard you had your first League mission.” Superman replies.

“Not really.” Robin shrugs, turning his attention back to the building across the street as he slips the batarang back into a pocket on his utility belt. “I mean—it’s Poison Ivy. The anti-plant spray did most of the work.”

“And now you’re patrolling on your own?” The Last Son of Krypton asks, peering at the building that Dick’s attention is focused on, his eyes squinting ever so slightly, which leads Robin to believe that the alien is using his xray vision.

“Batwoman’s like three blocks that way.” Robin explains, gesturing over his shoulder with his binoculars before he returns them to a pouch on his utility belt. “See anything to indicate this place has been inhabited recently?”

“Only by a lot of rats and a few homeless people.” Superman replies. “So… synchronized patrols?”

“Yep.” Robin pops the ‘p’ as he starts heading off across the roofs of Gotham towards the next building that he needs to check out, trusting that the Man of Steel will follow him. “That way I get some experience working on my own—”

“But Bats is close enough that she can step in if something goes wrong.” Superman notes as he lands next to Robin on a rooftop and the young crime fighter reaches for his binoculars as he focuses on a building across the street. “So what are you looking for anyway?”

“Scarface—or at least his new base of operations.” Robin explains. “His gang’s been battling with one of the mob families for control of this neighborhood. Scarface likes to stay close to the action.”

“Scarface?”

“You know—the Ventriloquist?”

“…who?”

“Oh man, you’re going to love this.” Robin turns towards Superman, a huge smile on his face. “Okay, so ‘Scarface’ and ‘the Ventriloquist’ are _sorta_ the same person.”

“How can two villains ‘sorta’ be the same person?” The Last Son of Krypton asks, frowning slightly as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“Well… one’s a ventriloquist and the other is his dummy.”

For a moment the rooftop is silent, save for the soft sound of Robin and Superman’s capes moving in the breeze.

“Seriously?” Superman asks, slowly raising one eyebrow.

“Seriously.” Robin replies, not breaking the alien’s gaze.

“…Gotham is weird.” Superman mutters as he turns to x-ray the building which Robin had been investigating. “Someone’s renovated one of the ground level shops and turned it’s basement into a hell of a bunker.”

“Anyone there?” Robin asks as he follows Superman’s pointing finger and locates the correct shop through his binoculars.

“No.”

“Great.” Robin sighs, taking his eyes off the shop so that he can make himself slightly more comfortable on the rooftop. “That means I get to stake this one out while Batwoman checks out the others.”

“And scares the pants off some teenagers.” Superman remarks, tapping at his ear when Robin frown in confusion. “Five blocks over, some boys decided to spraypaint the windows of a shop just as the Dark Knight was passing by.”

“Man, that’s some serious bad luck.”

“One of them is currently crying and whimpering for his mother. It’s rather amusing to be honest, since Batwoman hasn’t actually _said_ anything yet.

“… hey Supes?” Robin fiddles with his binoculars awkwardly. “You… you have a mom right? I mean a human mom.”

“Yes. I was adopted by a human couple and I consider them my mother and father.” Superman frowns slightly as he answers the young hero’s question. “Why do you ask?”

“… Ican’tfigureoutwhattogetBWforMother’sDay.” The words come out in a rush, each one running into the one before it and it takes a second for Clark to figure out what Dick has just said. Clark hums softly, glancing around as he thinks and finding his gaze slowly drawn to the night sky above him and Robin.

“What about something for her room on the Watchtower?” He suggests. “All she’s got in there now are a few books and stuff to refill the pouches on her belt. There wouldn’t even be blankets on the bed if the tower’s staff didn’t supply them.”

“But she’d never put anything I gave her there!” Robin objects. “I wouldn’t want to give her just any old thing but she’s _waay_ too paranoid to put anything even remotely personal up there.”

“Because she’s worried that someone would use it to figure out who she is.” Clark realizes.

“And who I am.” Robin adds, his grip tightening around his binoculars

“… I may have a solution to that.” Superman can’t help but smile at the hopeful look that appears on Robin’s face at his words. “You know my Fortress?”

“The giant ice palace in the Artic?”

“Well I figured out how to use a flat cut of crystal to make… well it’s sorta like one of those electronic photo frames, the ones that can display different images?” Clark pauses to ensure that Robin is following his chain of thought before he continues explaining his idea. “But this one is keyed to certain people. So Batwoman could look at it and see a picture of the two of you _without_ masks…”

“But everyone else would see a picture of us all masked and suited up?” The smile that appears on Robin’s face when Clark nods seems almost too big for the young hero’s face. “What do you need?”

“Two pictures—or two _groups_ of pictures if you want. I’ll swing by your place tomorrow and get them and the ‘frame’ back to you asap.”

“She’s got a meeting at four, so she’ll be gone by three to get everything ready.” Robin smiles, leaning forward as he plots with Superman.

“I’ll see you then.” Clark winks as he stands up, dusting non-existent dust off his legs. “Sounds like Batwoman is on her way over, so I’ll leave you two to your crime fighting.”

“Thanks!” Robin smiles, standing up as he watches Superman take off. The young hero doesn’t react as, a few seconds after the Last Son of Krypton disappears into the clouds, Gotham’s Dark Knight lands on the rooftop next to him.

“Superman?” Batwoman asks, her gaze already focused on the building across the street.

“Passing by, stopped to congradulate me on Poison Ivy and help me scan buildings.” Robin explains, offering the binoculars to his mentor. “Second store in from the right corner, Supes says it’s been modified and the basement’s been turned into a bunker. No one’s there now though.”

“Set up cams on this building and a few others on the street.” Batwoman replies, handing the binoculars back to Robin. “I’ll sweep for cams inside and put some of our own up.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Thanks to security systems, the press, Wayne Enterprises’ PR department and Alfred Pennyworth it wasn’t exactly hard for Dick Grayson to find pictures that would be appropriate for Rachel’s Mother’s Day gift. He hard part was sifting through them, choosing which photographs to include and which ones to leave out… it was hard enough to cut down the “superhero” photos, since there were so many of them, even when you took out the blurry photos and the ones where it was hard to distinguish between Gotham night and Gotham Knight.

When it comes to the “normal” photos for Rachel’s gift Dick finds himself completely overwhelmed… so much so that he actually goes to Alfred Pennyworth for help and—after a few softly spoken words from the Wayne Family Butler—Dick finally manages to narrow the mountain down to a molehill.

Dick is so caught up in picking the perfect pictures that he doesn’t notice when Alfred slips away from the teenager and seeks out the other inhabitant of the Manor—or rather skillfully avoids the other inhabitant of the Manor while managing to place a small folder where the Dark Knight can’t help but notice and investigate it. Several hours later—after Master Grayson has handed a USB drive with the photos he’s chosen over to Superman and after Miss Wayne has returned from her meeting at Wayne Enterprises—Alfred Pennyworth once again sets off into the maze like hallways of Wayne Manor, this time intending on actually finding and interacting with his employer.

Alfred finds Rachel Wayne sitting on a couch in the Manor’s Library, the folder he’d laid out earlier sitting in front of her and a pen in her hands, which she fiddles with as Alfred moves to sit next to her.

“How long have you had this drawn up?” Rachel asks after a second’s hesitation.

“Since he called you ‘Mom’ for the first time.” Alfred admits. “It gave me something to concentrate on while we waited for you to come back from your trip into that alternate dimension.”

“… and now you think I should sign them.”

“I believe it would be especially appropriate, given the upcoming ‘holiday’.”

“What if he…” Rachel trails off, the pen in her hand going still and almost slipping between her fingers. “I don’t want to—”

“Master Grayson has spent this entire week about two steps away from being hysterical with worry that he will somehow ‘fail’ in getting you a Mother’s Day Present.” Alfred informs the young woman he thinks of as his daughter.

Rachel slowly reaches forward and flips open the folder, her pen poised and ready to sign… only to hesitate once again.

“I’m Batwoman.” Rachel whispers, sounding annoyed with herself. “I shouldn’t be scared of… of _this._ ”

“It’s understandable.” Without hesitating Alfred Pennyworth leans over and wraps his arms around his employ—around his _daughter_ —before he hugs her tightly. Rachel leans into the embrace for a second before she reaches out and quickly signs the paper inside the folder. As Rachel sighs deeply Alfred takes the pen from her and adds his own signature to the paper.

“Thank you Alfred.” Rachel whispers, closing the folder as Alfred calmly sits up and heads off to complete his chores.

“You’re welcome Miss. Wayne.” The elderly man replies.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Rachel Wayne wakes up slowly for once and it takes her a few seconds to realize that Dick Grayson is cuddled up against her side, one arm wrapped around her. Rachel smiles and reaches out, returning the embrace and pulling her son slightly closer to her as she looks down at him, smiling at his messed up hair and Batwoman pajamas.

“Managed to sneak up on you.” Dick mumbles, rubbing at his eyes.

“Yeah but you didn’t stay awake afterwards.” Rachel points out, laughing softly. “When’d you sneak in? Midnight?”

“Somewhere around there.” Dick admits.

“So what, I don’t get breakfast in bed? I was looking forward to that.” Rachel mock grumbles as she shifts herself and the pillows around so that she is sitting up in bed.

“You always get breakfast in bed.” Dick points out, moving to sit up but not leaving Rachel’s side.

“But now Master Grayson gets to join you.” Alfred Pennyworth adds as he rolls a small serving trolley into the room, accompanied by a sleepy looking Ace, who has a small bouquet of flowers in his mouth. As Rachel watches the dog leaps up on the bed, where he considers Dick for a second before stepping over him and dropping the flowers in Rachel’s lap.

“Thank you Ace.” Rachel reaches out to scratch behind the dog’ ears before picking up the flowers—dark blue and red irises tied together with two piece of black yarn—and placing them in a vase of water on her bedside table which Alfred had obviously provided for that exact purpose.

“I picked them out.” Dick replies as Alfred places a large wooden bed tray over Rachel and her son’s lap. A cup of coffee and a cup of hot chocolate quickly appears in front of the two, followed by waffles topped with fruit and whipped cream. Ace hops off the bed as Alfred sets down his bowl before the Wayne Family Butler perches himself on the edge of the bed with a cup of coffee and watches his employer and her son eat their breakfast.

As the two finish their waffles Dick reaches over to pick up a small present wrapped in black paper embossed with vines and flowers with a yellow bow on top, which he hesitantly offers to Rachel.

“Happy Mother’s Day.” Dick all but whispers, looking extremely self conscious as he hands the present over to Rachel. However his self consciousness quickly turns to playful annoyance as his foster mother slowly undoes the bow, folding it and setting it to one side before she unwraps the present, taking care not to rip the paper.

Eventually the paper falls away, revealing a plain black picture frame and Rachel frown slightly, turning the frame over in her hands for a second before she glances over at Dick, one eyebrow raised in a silent question.

“It’s for your room in the Watchtower—Clark helped me with it.” Dick explains as he takes the picture frame from Rachel and fiddles with something on the back. “He said the first time we turned it on it would do a demo thing—so if anyone who doesn’t know that Batwoman is Rachel Wayne looks at it then this is what they’ll see…”

_A still from Edgepoint Labs’ security system, showing Batwoman and Robin standing back to back in the midst of Poison Ivy’s plant monsters._

_Batwoman on her motorcycle, tearing down the streets of Gotham._

_The first good picture that anyone had gotten of Batwoman—the one which had informed Gotham and the world that their hero was female._

_A little kid holding up a batarang for the cameras, a huge smile on his face._

_Robin doing a handstand on top of the Tumbler while, in the background, Batwoman worked diligently on the Cave’s computer._

_Batwoman handcuffing a criminal, with several other criminals sitting on the ground already restrained._

_The Question leaning on a police car that Robin is sitting on top of while while Batwoman hands Mary Dahl over to Commissioner Gordon._

_Robin comforting a girl whom he’d just helped save from a burning building._

_The Dark Knight standing on the bridge of the Watchtower, Superman at her side, their attention focused on the computer screen in front of them._

_Batwoman and Robin, soaring through the night sky using the “wings” of their capes._

_The Batsignal lighting up Gotham’s night sky._

The picture frame lingers upon the last picture longer then the others, before it does dark, which apparently cues Dick’s next bit of explanation.

“But if they know about our double lives then they’ll see those pictures mixed in with these next ones.”

_Rachel and Dick sitting at the booth in the kitchen of Wayne Manor, where Rachel looks like she hasn’t slept for days but is still laughing at Dick, who is trying to stop Ace from stealing his pancakes._

_Dick asleep in the chair that sits at the computer in the Cave, wrapped up in a blanket with Alfred at his side, leaning against the computer desk and drinking a cup of tea as he waits for Rachel to come home from patrol._

_Thomas Wayne in his study, showing Rachel how to listen to his heartbeat with his stethoscope._

_Dick in a formal suit, at some Wane Enterprises Event, clearly bored out of his mind and leaning against a floor to ceiling glass window, so that it looks like he’s a giant leaning against one of the buildings of downtown Gotham._

_Alfred in his gardening clothes, complete with a comically oversized straw hat, a soft smile on his face as he helps Dick—who is **covered** in dirt—transfer a flower from pot to garden._

_Martha Wayne sitting in a hospital bed, her attention completely focused on the newborn baby girl in her arms._

_Rachel curled up on a sofa in the library with a large book and Ace who, in the photo, is still small enough to fit in her lap._

_Dick on the circus equipment in the Manor’s gym, playing with the high wire set up for the first time after his parents’ deaths._

_An old press photo of Rachel—taken when she was twelve or thirteen—standing at Alfred’s side during some formal ceremony and holding the Wayne Family Butler’s hand tightly._

_Dick helping Alfred feed the bats in the Cave, laughing as one decides to hang off his outstretched arm as it eats._

_Rachel sweeping Dick into her arms to prevent him from seeing his parents’ bodies._

_Thomas and Martha Wayne on their wedding day, just before Martha throws her bouquet._

_Rachel leaning against the trunk of a weeping willow, a book in her hands and Dick asleep with his head in her lap. Ace curled up at their side, his tail almost completely hiding the stone set in the ground next to them._

There are tears in Rachel’s eyes as she reaches over and pulls Dick into a hug.

“Thank you. It’s… it’s _perfect._ ” Rachel whispers in his ear, her entire body trembling as Dick hugs her back. When the two finally sepearte there are actual tears running down Rachel’s face, which she wipes away as she opens the drawer of her bedside table and pulls out a folder, which she offers to Rachel.

“What’s this?” Dick asks as he slowly opens the folder, revealing a very official looking paper which has the Gotham City seal embossed in one corner.

“They’re adoption papers.” Rachel explains. “If we file them—which we don’t have to if you don’t—”

The Dark Knight is cut off by Dick Grayson all but throwing himself at Rachel, practically knocking her over and off the bed as he hugs her and starts sobbing. For a second Rachel looks absolutely terrified, but then she realizes that Dick is whispering one word over and over as he hugs her— _Yes—_ which prompts her to hug her son back just as fiercely as the little boy.

“Happy Mother’s Day Dick.”

“Happy Mother’s Day Mom.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: A thousand pardons for not updating this thing in such a long time. I’m currently enrolled in a program to get my teacher’s credential, which means I’ll be able to teach history in a public high school, and it’s taking a LOT out of me, so I haven’t been able to work on fanfiction until right now, cause we’re between classes. Hopefully I’ll be able to get more done over the summer because I’ve only got one class and it look like it should be pretty easy.


	40. Sed Quis Custodiet Ipsos Custodes?

**_Sed Quis Custodiet Ipsos Custodes? = Latin for “But Who Is To Guard The Guards Themselves?”_ **

 

The newsroom at the Daily Planet is abuzz with activity as Clark Kent strolls in, a cup of coffee in one hand and his briefcase in the other. The Last Son of Krypton arrives at his desk to find Lois Lane hard at work, pounding on the keyboard of her computer and occasionally muttering a stray thought or two as he pieces together her latest assignment. Lois’ desk is—as usual—a mess, with leaning towers of papers, empty coffee cups (both ceramic and paper) and USB sticks of various shapes and sizes scattered throughout. There is a pencil behind one of Lois’ ears and a highlighter poked through her messy ponytail. When Clark sits down at his desk Lois makes a noise which might be some sort of greeting or at least acknowledgement of his presence, but she does not look up from her computer screen as Clark settles in for the day… and discovers that there is a small white box sitting in the middle of his desk.

Setting down his coffee and his briefcase Clark inspects the box. Before he can x-ray it Lois leans forward and lifts up the box’s lid, revealing a large cupcake with a veritable mountain of white icing that has been topped off with a single candle, which Lois lights as she sets the lid aside.

“Happy birthday Smallville.” Lois says, smirking at the look of surprise on Clark’s face as she motions towards the cupcake. “Go ahead—make a wish.”

Struggling to stop himself form rolling his eyes Clark leans forward and humors Lois by blowing out the candle. Apparently satisfied Lois goes back to typing her article, while Clark removes the candle and take a bite of his cupcake, which turns out to be vanilla flavored. With a shrug Clark munches on his birthday cupcake as he boots up his computer and starts working.

The day passes quickly, without Clark needing to duck out and be Superman and with Lois and a few other coworkers treating him to a birthday lunch at a nearby dinner, where he receives a birthday card signed by the office and a knitted scarf from the old woman who organizes the Planet’s birth and death announcements. When Clark arrives back at his apartment there are two packages waiting for him—one from his mother, which he knows hold a homemade pie or cake, and one that had to have been hand delivered, since it doesn’t have any postage or any sort of address other then “To Clark Kent”… or at least it doesn’t have any sort of address that a human would be able to see, because Clark needs to use his enhanced vision to see that, inside the “o” there is a microscopic drawing of a bat.

Clark takes both boxes inside his apartment, opening the one from his mother first, revealing a chocolate pound cake and a handwritten note. He knows from experience that the cake will be delicious and that the note will ask him to join his mother for dinner in the near future. After putting the cake away in the kitchen and making a mental note to call his mother and inform her that he can’t wait to visit Clark turns his attention to the package that Batwoman had sent him. Inside the plain brown box he finds a small, soft wrapped present and an envelope with his name written on the front in a child’s handwriting.

The envelope contains a hand drawn birthday card, depicting Superman, Batwoman and Robin fighting together against a group of masked men. Inside “Happy Birthday Clark!” has been written in red, blue and yellow, right above Dick Grayson’s signature and what looks like a dog’s paw print, which Clark assumes belongs to Ace. With a smile on his face Clark opens the wrapped present, revealing what looks like a length of black fabric with little yellow Batwoman logos all over it.

However once Clark unfolds the fabric he realizes that they’re a pair of sleep pants which, in addition to the Batwoman logos, also have a yellow drawstring with little Batwoman logo beads on the end. The fabric is soft and a quick check of the tag on the waistband reveals that they’re Clark’s size. As Clark inspects his gift a slip of paper falls out of the pant’s folds, revealing a short note in Rachel’s elegant handwriting.

 _I figured you had enough Superman merchandise._ – _RW_

As Clark contemplates Batwoman’s gift his cell phone starts to ring, snapping Clark out of his thoughts. He glances at the caller ID, recognizing the number as one of several phones in Wayne Manor that Rachel has previously called him from, before he answers the call.

“So did I guess correctly?” Rachel asks, her voice a mix between the growl of Gotham’s Dark Knight and the soft musical tones of Gotham’s most eligible (and wealthy) bachelorette which Clark had heard at her birthday party.

“Sorta?” Clark replies, doing his best not to laugh as he sits down on his couch, glancing over at the boxers, which are sitting on his coffee table. “I mean… I don’t have Superman ones, unless you count the suit.”

“I don’t think that counts.” Rachel doesn’t laugh, but Clark can tell that she’s smirking. “It was mostly Dick’s idea.”

“Mostly?”

“He could wear nothing but Superman and Batwoman for at least two months without having to wash clothes. When I asked him what he thought we should get you he suggested something Batwoman themed.” Rachel clarifies as, in the background, Clark can hear what sounds like a closet being opened and someone moving clothes on hangers around. “We were going to include a Robin shirt, but it turns out they’re not making them yet.”

“Yet?”

“The same company that made those pants are going to be making Robin merchandise soon.” Rachel explains, the sounds in the background ceasing for a second. “Dick insists that we get you a shirt to go with the pants.”

“Well of course, you can’t have Batwoman without Robin.” Clark replies as the noise of Rachel rummaging through her closet resumes. “What are you doing?”

“Getting ready for a date.” Rachel replies with a sigh. “Red or blue?”

“…what?”

“I’m Rachel Wayne Clark. Going on dates with wealthy and/or hot men comes with the last name. If it makes you feel any better I’m going to be bored out of my mind for the entirety of it and am contemplating bribing Dick to call me home early. So red or blue?”

“…red?” Clark replies. “Why go on the date if you’re not interested in—um…”

“Jacob Burrell.” Rachel interrupts and Clark can hear the sound of something soft (he suspects it’s a dress) being tossed on what he thinks is a bed and a closet door closing. “His father runs a shipping company that has a major hub in Gotham. He’s mildly attractive, dumb as a post but thankfully not connected to anything more criminal then having his father get him out of some underage drinking charges when he was younger.”

“So your going out to be bored out of your mind?”

“Yep.” Rachel replies, popping the p. “Well I’m also going to get to eat some truly excellent food and possibly mess with the paparazzi, but the vast majority of my evening is going to be sheer boredom. What about you?”

“I didn’t have anything planed.” Clark replies. “So it’s possible my night may be nothing but boredom as well.”

“At least you have the option of picking up a book or turning on the TV. Meanwhile all I can look forward to is thwarting Burrell’s attempts at seduction.” Rachel hesitates for a moment, as if she is going to say something else, but she is interrupted by the sound of someone knocking on a door. “I know Alfred, I’m getting ready!”

“Running late?”

“Not yet. Alfred knows me too well.” Rachel sighs, sounding somewhat annoyed at that fact. “Well, I best be off. Happy Birthday Clark.”

“Have a good date Rachel.” Clark smirks, prompting Rachel to mock growl at him before she hangs up…

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Rachel sighs as she hangs up on Clark and turns her attention to the dress which Clark had, somewhat unknowingly, picked out for her. The dress is a dark red, with a peasant style skirt that reaches the floor and tight sleeves which are joined to the dress underneath a decorative neckline which looks like it’s been wrapped around her shoulders. The dress hangs low on Rachel’s shoulder, making it look as if the cloth is mere seconds away from slipping off her shoulders. Rachel leaves her hair loose and keeps her makeup minimal and her jewelry simple—just a pair of gold hoop earrings and a gold locket on a chain which contains a picture of her and Dick. A pair of nondescript black flats and a simple rectangular shawl of black, slightly see through fabric, completes the outfit.

After a final glance in the mirror to ensure that her “Rachel Wayne, Billionaire” façade is in place, Rachel stashes her cell phone in a clutch purse which already contains a few batarangs in a hidden pocket and heads out of her bedroom, down through the Manor to where Dick Grayson is waiting at the front door and Alfred Pennyworth is waiting in a car outside. She hugs Dick goodbye for the night, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek just to see the young boy’s face scrunch up as he rubs at the faint print her lipstick leaves on his cheek. Once this is accomplished Rachel settles herself into the back seat of the car and watches the Manor slowly fade into the distance as Alfred drive her into Gotham proper.

Rachel will meet Jacob Burrell at Déjà, the latest incredibly expensive restaurant and bar that has caught the attention and attracted the patronage of Gotham’s rich, famous and powerful. She’s turned down Burrell’s offer to pick her up at Wayne Manor, mostly so that she could delay the beginning of the date and hasten the end, thus shortening her night of boredom and playing the part of Gotham’s Princess.

“Remind me again why I have to spend a night out instead of with you and Dick?” Rachel sighs as the car pulls up in front of Déjà.

“Because the paparazzi pay more attention to you when your not dating then when you are.” Alfred replies before he exits the car and moves to open Rachel’s door for her. “You could always seek a date from someone whose company you enjoy Miss Wayne.”

“Why Alfred, if only you’d offered your company earlier!” Rachel mock gasps, pressing a hand dramatically to her chest as she draws a smile from the Wayne Family Butler as he opens her door. “Wish me luck?”

“Always.” Alfred whispers as he offers his hand to his employer, assisting her in stepping out of the car and on to the red carpet that runs from the street to the entrance of Déjà.

After exchanging a final smile with Alfred Rachel turns ever so slightly to the waiting paparazzi and gives them her best haughty smile, prompting a blinding storm of camera flashes as Rachel makes her way into the restaurant. She doesn’t have to even look at the _maître d_ _'_ , the moment she steps inside the restaurant’s gilded interior some employee is there, ready and eager to escort Rachel Wayne to the table where Jacob Burrell is waiting for her. The table which Burrell has chose is close to the dance floor and the restaurant’s bar, practically in the center of the damn place, where it’s occupants can see everyone and—perhaps more importantly to Burrell—where everyone in the Déjà can see that he is eating with Rachel Antonietta Wayne.

Jacob stands up to greet Rachel with a bow and, when Rachel shows no sign of allowing him to kiss any part of her face, he hastens to press a kiss to her hand before pulling out her chair, as if he’s some sort of gentleman and not just a wealthy man’s second son trying to marry into more money then he’ll ever get in inheritance. Struggling to contain a sigh Rachel settles down to a night of boredom and opens up the menu a waiter places in front of her as Jacob starts prattling about the various reviews he’s read of the restaurant.

Rachel manages to get through her appetizer—hard boiled eggs stuffed with Almas Caviar—and about halfway through her main course—pigeon with a warm foie grass sorbet—before she gives in to her urges and “accidently” kicks Jacob under the table, after the man tries to engage her in a game of footise. Just because she’s not wearing heels doesn’t mean that her “accidental” kick isn’t painful as all hell for Burrell.

As the man winces and tries to pretend that he hasn’t been affected by the kick Rachel’s faux apology for her “slip” is cut off by a crash of breaking glass and several screams from the front of the restaurant. Both Jacob Burrell and Rachel Wayne turn as people run from the broken doors, where two polar bears growl at the crowd. Between the two white bears stand Mr. Freeze, his freeze gun in hand and his eyes scanning the crowd in front of him.

“Where is Rachel Wayne?” The villain asks, his freeze gun trailing over the crowd who turn, practically as one, to look at the table where Rachel is seated. As the scientist turned super villain stalks towards her, the polar bears following close behind him, Jacob Burrell falls out of his chair and—not bothering to get to his feet—starts frantically trying to put as much distance between himself and his date as possible, while whimpering like a kicked puppy.

“What do you want?” Rachel asks, feeling suddenly grateful that she’d decided to very publically stand up to the Joker and his men in Metropolis over a year ago… because right now Rachel is so pissed at herself that she doesn’t think she could fake being afraid of any villain.

She had left her Justice League communicator at the Manor and neither Alfred or Dick watched her when she was on a date (Alfred because he was too polite, Dick because her dates were too boring). While Rachel did have her cell phone, she couldn’t use that to summon caped assistance (or even the police) without drawing attention to herself… so all she could do was do her best to make Mr. Freeze spontaneously combust through the sheer power of the pissed off glare she had trained on him.

“Stand up.” Mr Freeze orders, his gun now pointed at Rachel who can feel not only his gaze, but the eyes of everyone in Déjà upon her. As much as Rachel would love to just start wailing on the taller man, that’s not exactly something which Gotham’s Princess is supposed to do. Sure, she kicked the Joker in the family jewels, but unfortunately Mr. Freeze’s cryogenic suit makes that course of action very difficult and even Batwoman would think twice about striking out while his Freeze Gun was inches away from her.

So Rachel Wayne slowly stands up, her eyes flicking between Mr. Freeze, the polar bears and the man’s freeze gun. She’s not even completely upright when Mr. Freeze’s hand darts out and closes around Rachel’s wrist. Rachel’s clutch purse falls to the ground as Victor Fries all but drags her towards the doors, the crowd parting even further as his polar bears follow close behind.

There’s a large van parked outside of the restaurant, with it’s back doors open and facing Déjà’s entrance. Rachel can see movement in the area of the driver’s seat, but before she can figure out who is helping Mr. Freeze the man all but throws her into the back of the van, while shouting out commands to the polar bears, which pile in behind her, backing Rachel up against the far wall of the van. The doors close behind the two massive animals, who growl at Rachel but—when she doesn’t move and another instruction is barked by Mr. Freeze through a grill which sepeartes the van’s back from the driver’s and passenger seat—the bears seem to lose interest in their master’s captive and settle down as the van’s engine roars to life.

Rachel can hear police sirens drawing nearer and nearer, so she isn’t too surprised when the van starts taking tight corners and sudden turns. Occasionally she hears the honk of another car’s horn and the distinctive sound of Mr. Freeze using his cryo gun, usually followed by the screech of tires and the sound of metal twisting in a car crash. Although the Dark Knight does her best to brace herself—both to keep herself away from the bears and to avoid being toss about—she doesn’t have a whole lot to work with and, before long the van takes a turn when Rachel is unprepared, throwing the Billionaire hard against the metal side and knocking her unconscious.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Clark hasn’t fully fallen asleep when his phone rings. He cracks open one eye and peers at the caller ID—it’s a different number then before, but he still recognizes it as belonging to Wayne Manor—and yawns as he reaches out to answer the phone. It’s been less then an hour since he talked with Rachel, and he doubts that her date is finished. Idly wondering if she’s calling him from the powder room or whatever Clark mutters some sort of greeting into the phone… and is cut off by a voice which _isn’t_ Rachel’s.

“Clark!” It’s Dick Grayson’s voice and in an instant the Last Son of Krypton is awake and his heart is racing.

“Dick what’s wrong?” He asks, sitting up and struggling to keep from crushing the phone in his grip as Dick launches into some sort of explanation which is rendered meaningless by the fright in the young boy’s voice and the young hero’s own franticly beating heart. The explanation is cut off by the phone being taken from Robin and another familiar voice that is not Rachel’s replaces Dick’s.

“Mr. Kent?”

“Alfred what’s going on?” Clark asks, effortlessly transferring the call from his cell phone to the Justice League communicator and changing from his pajamas into his suit.

“Miss Wayne has been kidnapped.”

“I’m on my way.” Before Clark can finish his sentence he’s out of his apartment and half-way out of Metropolis.

“We’ll be waiting in the cave.”Alfred replies, hanging up and thus allowing the Man of Steel to fly as fast as he can for Gotham and Wayne Manor.

%MCEPASTEBIN%

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, sorry for the delay. It is (as always) due to real life problems, but those problems should be clearing up at least a little. I managed to get a job, which actually will allow me to (hopefully) do a lot of fic writing in between duties.
> 
> All descriptions / names / whatever of food from Rachel’s fancy date were found by goggling “expensive food” and such. Her date’s name was chosen via a generator. The story idea for this and the next few chapters is taken from the very good BtAS movie Batman – Subzero.
> 
> The chapter title—Sed Quis Custodiet Ipsos Custodes?—can also be translated as Who Watches The Watchmen?
> 
> Refrence images for Mr. Freeze and Rachel's dress can be found at rachel-wayne.tumblr.com


	41. Non Est Vivere Sed Valere Vita Est

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: So…. yeah it’s been a while. Um, first it was working on Nano 2013, then it was editing that Nano, then it was Nano 2014, then back to editing Nano 2013, with multiple knitting projects, family vacations, writer’s block, school woes, employment complications, random urge to learn the guitar (still struggling with that one), getting waaaaay too into various video games, then Christmas and… yeah.

_Non Est Vivere Sed Valere Vita Est = Latin for “Life Is More Than Just Being Alive”_

 

Rachel Wayne wakes up to find a man leaning over her—early 40s, expensive suit that just tattered enough to indicate recent financial trouble, over-applied cologne indicating that he thinks he’s more of a “catch” then he really is and the beginnings of a 5 o’clock shadow. The man is taking her pulse— one of his hands holds Rachel’s wrist and he is intently focused on the watch which he wears on the other’s hand’s wrist. As soon as the Billionaire establishes that she is not tied down and that the man is unarmed she yanks her arm away and moves towards the head of the cot she has been placed on.

“Who are you?” Rachel asks as the man— who seems to be surprised that she is conscious— takes a step back towards a small stool where a metal tray and a bottle of unmarked pills sit.

“I’m a doctor. Keep cal—”

“Where am I?” Rachel interrupts the ‘doctor’, who reaches over to the bottle and shakes a few pills out onto his palm as Rachel cautiously evaluates her surroundings.

The room is next to featureless, with only the bed— really just a rusted frame with a thin mattress on top—that Rachel is sitting on and the stool next to the man for furniture. There are no windows, just grey metal walls rusted and battered with age and only one door, which is also made of metal. The ceiling has several flickering florescent lights, several of which are burnt out or are about to burn out, and two vent openings— the kind Rachel is used to seeing in warehouses and old buildings while out on patrol. The kidnapped Billionaire is fairly confident that she can fit through the vents… provided that she can reach them. The ceiling looks ever so slightly too high for her to reach, even if she stands on top of the bed.

“Here, take these… you’ll feel better.” The man replies calmly, holding a handful of pills out towards Rachel. For a moment Rachel simply stares at the pills, before slowly shifting her gaze up to the man and giving him her very best ‘Are you fucking serious?’ face. When the man’s only response is to move the hand and it’s pills closer to her face, Rachel decides that subtly is lost on this moron.

“No.” She growls, almost slipping into ‘the Batwoman voice’ as she slaps the pills aside. There is a brief moment of triumph as the ‘doctor’ looks shocked and the pills scatter on the metal floor, but then Rachel’s arm is grasped by a very strong and very _cold_ gloved hand which she instantly recognizes as belonging to Mr. Freeze.

“Do as you’re told.” The scientist turned supervillain growls, taking another handful of pills from the doctor and holding them out towards Rachel. “Take them.”

Mr. Freeze’s grip on her wrist is so strong that it hurts, but this does not stop Rachel from slapping the pills away again, without even a second’s hesitation. Unlike the doctor, Mr. Freeze does not seem particularly surprised by his captive’s actions, so Rachel’s refusal of the pills is quickly followed by Victor Fries slapping her across the face and all but throwing her back on the bed.

“Victor no!” The doctor cries, reaching out to stop Fries from further assaulting their captive. With a sly look on his face the man places one hand on Mr. Freeze’s shoulder. “Miss Wayne obviously prefers not to take any medication right now… let’s give her some time to herself.”

The second that Mr. Freeze and the still unnamed doctor are out of Rachel’s room the door locks behind them and Rachel all but throws herself at the metal door, pressing one ear against it to listen as the two walk away. When she can’t hear their footsteps anymore she slowly counts to ten and then heads back over to the bed, using it as a sort of springboard to reach the pipes on the ceiling… which allow her entrance to one of the air ducts which—although it clearly hasn’t been cleaned in some time—hasn’t been secured.

Without flinching at the dust and spiders in the vent Rachel starts crawling through the maze of ducts and crawlspaces. Since she has no idea where she is or even what kind of structure she is in (although she suspects it’s industrial given the starkness of her “cell” and the way that the vents are set up) the Billionaire uses the “Right-Hand” method of solving mazes, which consists of two steps. Step 1 — place your right hand on the wall. Step 2 — Follow that wall until you find the exit.

Rachel ends up dismissing the first few “exits” that she finds, since they lead to small rooms similar to her cell whose doors are likely to be locked and/or rusted shut. However after a little more crawling she finds an opening that leans into a large room which is being artificially cooled. Goosebumps instantly break out over the Billionaire’s skin as she climbs out of the vents and cautiously steps into the room… where a young woman with long blond hair and deathly pale skin lies on a hospital bed, surrounded by medical equipment.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It is only thanks to years and years of living every day holding back his strength and powers that Clark Kent manages **not** to break the sound barrier as he makes his way from Metropolis to Gotham. He can feel himself getting close several times but each time he instinctively pulls back. Despite this restraint it doesn’t take long for Clark to reach Gotham. For a moment the Last Son of Krypton simply floats above the Dark Knight’s city, half expecting to see the dark shape of Batwoman racing across a rooftop or sailing through the air with her grappling hook, Robin close behind her. As the clouds start to shift around him Clark heads towards the Manor, taking care not to be spotted by the reporters camped out at the front gate as he makes his way into the secret cave that lies beneath the Wayne family’s ancestral home.

Only a few bats are startled into flight by Superman’s arrival, a testament more to the comfort of the animals with Batwoman and rather than familiarity with the Kryptonian. After all, these bats are used to Batwoman and Robin’s activities in the cave and the arrival and departure of both the Tumbler and the Batjet at all hours of the day and night.

Alfred Pennyworth is sitting at Batwoman’s computer, his fingers flying across the keyboard. Dick Grayson— who is dressed in his Robin suit but is not waring his black domino mask— stands silently to the right, looking over the butler’s shoulder and fidgeting as he watches the various screens of the computer. Alfred doesn’t acknowledge the Man of Steel’s arrival, but Dick turns to face the older hero as he touches down. The young boy isn’t crying, but his eyes are red and it’s obvious that that he’s shed more than a few tears in the recent past, although right now he looks more mad then sad.

Clark steps forward and moves to place a comforting hand on Dick’s shoulder— but instead finds himself practically picking up the young hero when Dick all but launches himself into the Last Son of Krypton’s arms and holds tight, burying his face against Clark’s shoulder as he fights back a fresh round of tears.

“We’ll get her back.” Clark whispers his promise to Robin as he hugs the boy tight. The young hero nods, pulling back to wipe at his eyes as Clark smiles and gently places him back on the ground, keeping a hand on the boy’s shoulder as he leans in to look at Batwoman’s computer. “What happened?”

“Miss Wayne was on a date at an upscale restaurant named Déjà.” Pennyworth explains, his typing not slowing down in the slightest as a map of Gotham and several pictures of the restaurant in question pop up on one of the computer’s screens. “Mr. Freeze arrived shortly after she and her date received their entrées.”

This time Alfred’s words are accompanied by clips from a few security camera and cell phones, all showing the former cryogenic scientist entering the restaurant—with two **_polar bears_** at his side—and making his way over to Rachel’s table.

“He was looking for her?” Clark asks. The videos have been muted, but when Mr. Freeze enters the restaurant he obviously says something to the crowd, which causes them to part like the sea and stare at Rachel Wayne.

“He asked for her by name.” Robin answers, poking a button which shifts the video feeds to cameras located outside the restaurant. “The he threw her into the van—stolen from a local rental company— that he’d shown up in. Managed to get away from the cops and took a bunch of back roads, so we can’t track it. However we got this pic of his getaway driver.”

Part of the video freezes and the image is enlarged as some sort of program cleans up the blurry bits so that the face of a middle-aged man can be seen.

“Have there been any ransom demands?” Superman asks.

“No ones called the Mansion, Wayne Industries or the police to issue any.” Robin explains. “The only call we’ve gotten is from Commissioner Gordon, to tell us that the GCPD are looking for Ray and that they’ve stationed a police car at the gates—mostly to help with the paparizi.”

“I saw them when I flew in.” Clark remarks as some program on the computer in front of the three men starts beeping.

“Looks like we’ve got a name for the getaway driver.” Robin remarks, leaning forward as a New York state driver’s license pops up next to the surveillance footage.

“Doctor Gregory Belson.” Alfred Pennyworth reads off the information displayed on the screen in front of him. “Currently doing research into the medical applications of cryogenics for GothCorp.”

“That’s where Mr. Freeze worked!” Robin realizes, turning slightly towards Clark as he explains. “Victor Fries’s wife, Nora, had some rare disease. Victor thought that he could use cryogenics to keep her alive until they found a cure.”

“So how’d he end up…” Clark trails off, gesturing towards the footage of Mr. Freeze

“Lab accident. Apparently Victor’s research wasn’t ‘profitable’ enough, so the head of GothCorp thought it was a good idea to try and shut him down right at the moment that Victor was freezing Nora.” Dick Grayson explains to the older hero. “Victor fell in a vat of cryo-stuff and everyone thought he was dead, until he showed up as ‘Mr. Freeze’ and stole his wife’s tube, along with a bunch of stuff to keep her frozen. He hasn’t popped up since then—Batwoman assumed he was off somewhere trying to find a cure for her.”

“Did Freeze and Belson work together at GothCorp?” Clark asks.

“It would appear that the two did most of the initial work on medical cryogenics.” Alfred replies. “After Victor’s ‘transformation’ Dr. Belson continued to work for GothCorp… he’s something of an expert in the field, perhaps even more so then Mr. Freeze. However he hasn’t been into the laboratory for several weeks.”

“Looks like he’s been spending an unusual amount of time at home….” Robin remarks as he inspects what looks like entrance logs from the lab and Belson’s apartment complex. With a smile the young hero picks his domino mask off the computer desk and slips it on as he turns towards Superman. “So… feel like a little breaking, entering and info gathering?”

“Sounds like a plan.” The Man of Steel agrees, glancing over to Alfred to ensure the Wayne Family Butler is onboard with this plan.

“I shall continue investigating Dr. Belson and following up any leads the GCPD bring up—I’ve taken the liberty of occupying channel 12 on your JL communicator.” Alfred informs Clark, who nods and flips the communicator over to the right channel before looking back at Dick Grayson.

“You okay with me carrying you?” Superman asks, holding a hand out towards Dick.

“Nah I thought I’d just grow a pair of wings.” Robin smirks as he takes a step towards the Man of Steel. “So… how does this work?”

Clark smiles and wraps an arm around Dick’s waist, hoisting the young hero up so that Robin can wrap an arm around his shoulders before he starts flying out of the cave. At first he goes relatively slowly, but when he hears a whoop of joy slip past Dick’s lips Clark speeds up, going as fast as he safely can with the young human at his side.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Slowly Rachel makes her way into the large room, shivering slightly as the temperature of the room makes her breath visible. The only sound in the room comes from the whir and beeps of the machines connected to the unconscious blond woman— whom Rachel would think was dead if not for the soft rise and fall of her chest and the heartbeat which is displayed upon one of the machines around the hospital bed. The woman looks familiar, though Rachel can’t quite figure out why until—

“GET AWAY FROM HER!”

The Billionaire spins around to find that a set of double doors have been thrown open and Mr. Freeze is standing there, with the doctor only a few steps behind him.

“You get away from me!” Rachel hisses as the two men advance towards her.

“Give it up Miss Wayne, there’s no place to run.” The doctor replies as he advances towards her, hands out in what is clearly supposed to be a ‘comforting’ manner. “Just needs to calm down.”

“No— _you_ calm down.” Rachel replies. “I want to know what I’m doing here.”

“I’m Doctor Gregory Elson—” The man’s name rings a bell, but Rachel can’t figure out _why_.“That’s Mr. Freeze.”

“I know who he is.” Rachel scoffs, slowly shifting her attention to Mr. Freeze as she moves to keep the hospital bed between herself and the two men. It’s a struggle to keep her voice from slipping into Batwoman’s growl. “Everyone in Gotham knows you… and I know who _she_ is too. I thought you wife was dead, Fries.”

“She will be dead if you won’t help her.” Belson replies, trying to play the “good cop”. “She needs an operation that requires a blood transfusion and you’re one of the few people with her blood type.”

“So why here?” Rachel asks. “She should be in a hospital.”

“No hospitals and no more questions!” Mr. Freeze growls, his hand moving towards his freeze gun.

“Victor!” Belson cautions the supervillain before looking back at Rachel. “You wouldn’t let her die would you?”

“You kidnap me and expect me to _corporate_?” Rachel asks, genuinely dumbstruck by Belson’s attempted appeal to her humanity. “I’ll help her—hell I’ll even cover the cost of her operation, but not here. Not this way.”

“Enough talk!” Freeze all but screams and Rachel dodges to the side, falling to the ground and barely managing to roll out of the path of the man’s freeze gun. Despite the knowledge of how close she’d come to being a human popsicle Rachel is off and running without a second’s hesitation. She can hear Belson shouting for Mr. Freeze not to shoot her with his freeze gun and what she assumes is the sound of Mr. Freeze’s polar bears chasing after her as she makes her way through the cold room, before busting through another pair of double doors and heading down a long hallway.

By the time she reaches the elevator shaft at the other end of the hallway the polar bears are all but nipping at her heels and they growl at her as she hauls herself up the empty shaft, going up what feels like three stories because she can feel wind coming down from above.

When she reaches the elevator doors which lead to the outside the slightest bit of a smirk appears on her face as she starts running again… only to realize (as she reaches a railing) that she is on an oil platform in the middle of the ocean. She’s too high up to risk jumping into the water and even if she did, she’s too far offshore to swim, there’s nowhere for her to hide and she can hear Mr. Freeze and his polar bears moving towards her. There’s nothing for her to do but surrender.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Doctor Gregory Belson’s apartment is in one of the more stylish areas of Gotham, but there’s a pile of unpaid bills and threatening letters from loan agencies sitting on the man’s desk, several obvious spaces on the walls and carpet where paintings and such have been sold or repossessed and it doesn’t take long for Robin to find even more bills and evidence of impending bankruptcy on the Doctor’s computer while Superman investigates the apartment itself.

“Anything suspicious?” Clark asks, moving to stand behind the younger hero so that he can see the computer screen.

“Well he’s going to go bankrupt unless he comes up with two and a half million dollars.” Dick replies as he quickly sifts through the Doctor’s emails. “It looks like he was using insider info to try and make a killing through the stock market… but it backfired. The drug he’d bet everything on ended up having some serious side effects, so now he’s deep in the red.”

“But if he needed money then why go to Freeze? And even if he did, why isn’t there a ransom note?” Clark asks.

“What about you? Did you find anything?”

“Scrap of paper with a list of medical supplies, I read it off to Alfred. He’s going to cross-reference—

“Excuse me sirs—” Alfred Pennyworth interrupts over the two hero’s coms. “But a rather unusual call was just placed to Doctor Belson’s accountant.”

“Go ahead.” Clark replies as he passes the list to Robin.

“….ello?” A tired female voice asks through a yawn.

“Charlotte it’s Gregory.” A male voice replies, it’s owner obviously wide awake.

“Gregory?! Where are you?” The accountant asks, in the background Robin and Superman can hear what sounds like the woman getting out of bed and fumbling with a light switch.

“I need you to buy me one more week with the FCC. Stall them, say whatever you have to, but I’ll have the cash by then.”

“You will? How.... but you said!”

“I know what I said, but I just struck gold.” The conversation is suddenly interrupted by what sounds like a fog horn on Belson’s end. “So you’ll take care of that right?”

“Where are you?”

“Never mind— just keep them from foreclosing for one more week and they’ll have your money.” The Doctor replies before ending the call.

“Was that a fog horn?” Robin asks as he shuts down the computer and slips the list that Clark had given him into a pocket of his utility belt.

“Yes, a ship’s fog horn. But there’s something else in the background…” Superman mutters as he follows Dick towards the balcony they had used to access the Doctor’s apartment.

“I’ll enhance it…” Alfred mutters and for a second there is silence save for sound of the Wayne Family Butler’s fingers striking keys. “Here.”

The sound of the fog horn plays again, this time followed by a soft sort of ringing sound.

“A bell?” Robin blinks.

“A buoy!” Clark realizes. “But wouldn’t Commissioner Gordon have combed the coast?”

“The buoy’s from the shipping lanes.” Alfred replies. “There’s an abandoned oil derrick five miles offshore—I’ve sent you a map.”

“It wouldn’t be hard to hide there.” Robin replies, pulling out a device that looks like a Iphone from one of the pockets on his utility belt and pulling up the map so that Superman can see it. “Set up the Batjet to meet us there.”

“It’s on it’s way. I have also alerted Commissioner Gordon, who is arranging for the coast guard to join you at the derrick.”

“Then let’s go.” Clark says after taking a second to ensure he knows where they are headed. Robin nods and allows himself to be picked up once again so that the two can set off.

“There is one more thing.” Alfred replies just as Superman takes to the skies and starts heading “I’ve completed the research on the list— this combination of surgical supplies are only used in an allograft procedure.”

“What blood type is Victor Fries wife?”

“AB-.” Alfred replies. “… the same as Miss Wayne’s.”

“What?” Robin asks, looking up at Superman in concern as the Last Son of Krypton starts flying faster over Gotham, towards the ocean. “Why is that important? What’s an allograft procedure?”

For a second Clark contemplates not answering the younger hero’s questions, or even lying to the Dark Knight’s sidekick. But then he looks down at the young boy, so obviously concerned for his adoptive mother yet at the same time keeping himself together in order to find her and decides that Dick deserves to know just what they’re getting themselves into.

“It’s the medical term for an organ transplant.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Mr. Freeze hauls Rachel Wayne back to the room she woke up in—where he promptly freezes all the vents shut with his gun while Doctor Belson handcuffs their captive to the cot.

“How long until we can begin?” Freeze asks as the two men head towards the door... which they don’t bother to lock.

“No more than an hour, I just have to get things prepared and insure Nora is stable.” The door slams closed behind them and—after waiting for a few seconds—Rachel reaches into her dress and pulls out a bobby pin with a smirk.

“Idiots.” Rachel huffs as she starts picking the lock of the handcuffs, all the while trying to figure out just what sort of operation Nora Fries needs. There’s no way that it’s as simple as the Doctor is trying to make her think it is… if all they needed from her was blood then it would have been easier to just steal it from a blood bank—although no matter what the two men need her for, there would have undoubtedly been some easier way to get it then kidnapping Rachel Wayne of all people…

_No matter._ Rachel thinks as the handcuffs spring open, allowing her to stand up. _Clark would have heard about my abduction, so he’s probably joined up with Alfred and Dick to find me… hopefully before Ra’s Al Ghul decides to get involved._

So all that Rachel has to do is find somewhere to hide—preferably somewhere where she can watch for the arrival of help, be it superhero or supervilian. Now that she knows that she’s being held on an oil derrick it shouldn’t be that hard to find another way out… especially since her kidnappers didn’t think they needed to lock the door to her makeshift cell.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As Superman and Robin approach the abandoned oil derrick the Man of Steel starts scanning the structure with his x-ray vision in order to find Rachel Wayne… only to realize that the Billionaire who spends most of her nights running around Gotham dresses as a bat is sitting on top of what appears to be a large container of oil, her gaze fixed upon the clear night skies.

Robin sees his adoptive mother a half-second before Rachel sees them and the moment that the two heroes touch down on the oil container the young boy all but flies out of Superman’s arms and into Rachel’s. Clark allows the two to have their moment but, when he sees the slight shaking of Rachel’s body due to the cold, he detaches his cape and steps forward to wrap it around Rachel.

“Mr. Freeze is down there with two polar bears, a doctor and his wife. There’s something wrong with her—something that they needed me for.” Rachel informs the two as she pulls the red cape tight around her.

“Belson had a list of supplies for an organ transplant.” Robin informs his mother, instantly slipping into ‘hero’ mode. “Gordon’s got the coast guard on it’s way.”

“Then we better secure the bears and Freeze.” Clark replies, his x-ray vision sweeping over the oil derrick.

“You’ve got the jet inbound?” Rachel asks and Robin nods. “Then we’ll have it land—that should bring them running. Mr. Freeze isn’t a danger as long as you break his freeze ray and I’m sure the Last Son of Krypton can handle two polar bears.”

“Meanwhile you’ll be staying here.” Clark replies and, when he sees that Batwoman is about to object, he pointedly looks at her outfit which draws a sigh and a reluctant agreement from Rachel Wayne.

“Here comes the Batjet.” Robin remarks, as he reaches into his pocket for a few batarangs, which he passes to Rachel before pulling out a pair of bolas, which he starts swinging. “I’ll wrap up the Doc, you get Freeze’s gun?”

“Deal.” Clark agrees.

“Robin give him the ties we used on Bane.” Rachel orders as she turns the batarang over in her hands. “They should be strong enough to restrain the bears.”

Robin obeys his mentor’s order as the jet moves in to land on the oil derrick’s helicopter pad. Shortly after the powerful plane lands—causing a good deal of noise and vibrations to race through the somewhat rickety derrick—a door slams open and Mr. Freeze emerges, a polar bear on either side.

Clark uses his laser vision on the freeze ray in the supervillain’s hand, causing it to explode as Robin hurls his bolas at the doctor, who is hesitantly peeking around the door that Mr. Freeze has emerged from. As Superman flies towards the polar bears, Rachel throws a batarang, which cuts what looks like a somewhat important cable on Mr. Freeze’s suit, while Robin flings another pair of bolas, this time aiming at the supervillain.

While Rachel starts climbing down from her hiding place, Robin follows Superman—who has managed to restrain one bear and is now struggling not to hurt the other as he ties it up—and moves to secure both Mr. Freeze and Doctor Belson. Clark can hear the sound of a police siren— apparently attached to a boat— as he throws the two bears into an elevator and uses one of the ties Robin had given him to secure the cage-like door.

“Nora Freeze is downstairs—she needs medical attention.” Rachel yells as Commissioner Gordon, followed by several police and coast guard officers, arrive on the oil derrick.

“We’ve got a medical helicopter inbound.” The Commissioner replies, not even blinking an eye at Superman’s presence as two of his officers head off with EMTs. “Are you okay Miss Wayne?”

“Cold but fine.” Rachel remarks, shrugging off the attention of another EMT, although she accepts the shock blanket which a female police officer drapes over her shoulders. “I’ll be much better once I’m back on solid ground and they’re in a cell.”

The Commissioner seems to accept Rachel’s good health—although he shoots a very clear “keep an eye on her” look to the female police officer before heading over to where Superman and Robin are standing next to the Batjet.

“I didn’t expect to see you here.” The Commissioner remarks as he approaches the two heroes.

“Batwoman’s on an offworld mission for the League.” The Man of Steel explains. “She wouldn’t be able to get back in time, so she asked me to help Robin out.”

“You’re getting quite experienced in rescuing Miss Wayne from danger.” Robin smirks, drawing a blush from Clark and laughter from the Commissioner.

“You’ll get her home?” Robin asks the Commissioner, who nods and waves goodbye to the young hero as he climbs into the Batjet. Superman waits for the plane to ascend before he takes off, accompanying the plane back to the entrance to the cave beneath Wayne Manor.

“Nice working with you Robin.”

“Not gonna stay for breakfast?” The younger hero teases as the plane vanishes into the cave like entrance, leaving Superman behind.

“Maybe some other time.” Superman replies, hesitating for just a moment before he heads back towards Metropolis and his apartment. As the last son of Krypton pulls off his suit and places it in its hiding place the phone which Rachel had given him buzzes, alerting him to the arrival of a text message.

_Thank you. –RW_

With a smile on his face Clark prepares to type out a response, only to be interrupted by the arrival of a second message.

_Dinner at my place tomorrow?-RW_

Clark Kent blinks, but the message remains the same… and, as he tries to figure out what to say and if he should accept, the two short messages are joined by another.

_Alfred always makes too much. -RW_

Clark runs a hand through his hair, groaning slightly as he fights with himself on if he should accept Rachel Wayne’s invitation and part of his mind starts speculating wildly on what that invitation could mean. Closing his eyes he quickly types out a message and hits send before he can stop himself.

_Sure -CK_

_See you at 7 then. -RW_


	42. Deodamnatus!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: I just fail at updating fics. I have no excuse, my new job is literally to sit around all night messing around on my computer and yet I didn’t update until now.

**_Deodamnatus! = Latin for “Damnit!”_ **

 

_Dinner at my place tomorrow? –RW_

_Alfred always makes too much. –RW_

 

_See you at 7 then. –RW_

It isn’t until about 6:30 AM the next morning, while he’s getting ready to leave his apartment and go to _The Daily Planet_ that Clark Kent’s brain finally connects the dots and he asks himself a very important question… **_Is this a date?_**

His gut reaction to that very important question is complete and utter denial that there is even the slimmest sliver of a ghost of a chance. After all, there are dozens of good reasons for Rachel Wayne’s invitation to dinner at Wayne Manor **_not_** to be a date. Perhaps the best reason— or at least the best one that Clark can come up with —is that Batwoman is not the sort of person who even contemplate starting or encouraging a religion that could interfere with the Justice League if things went sour. However the fact that it’s a dinner with Rachel’s _son_ and a man who is essentially her father is probably also a very good reason why here is no way under the sun or in space that this is a date… _but what if it is?_

It doesn’t help that Rachel has flirted with him quite extensively before—sure a good chunk of that had occurred pre-reveal and had been very public in nature and thus probably more to keep up her public persona. But then there were all those little moments, where it is a private text message between the two of them, or just the two of them speaking to one another. Sure, it might just be Rachel’s public persona bleeding into her private life… but what if it _wasn’t_?

At lunch, frustrated with his inability to think about anything _other_ then what exactly dinner is going to be and without any excuse to put on his cape and take his mind off things that way, Clark makes his way up to the roof of the Daily Planet and does what he always does when the world confuses him… he calls his mom.

Unfortunately he doesn’t _quite_ manage to explain things properly… he stammers like an idiot Clark does manage to get out the _gist_ of his situation across—a female friend has invited him over for dinner and he doesn’t know if it’s a date or not. However he leaves out several things which are, most likely, rather important information for figuring out the answer to his little problem. Some of that info is just common superhero courtesy—sure, Batwoman has trusted her and Robin’s secret identities to Clark, but that doesn’t mean he can just tell anyone he wants to— and a lot of it is related to that. After all, without knowing about the whole Batwoman thing, it’s kind of hard to explain why _Rachel Wayne_ wants to (possibly… probably not, but then again yea—no) date with _Clark Kent_ of all people.

So Martha Kent probably ends up thinking that her son has been asked to dinner by a single mother who works with Clark at the Daily Planet… so while she doesn’t provide a real answer Clark’s little burning question, she does playful tease her son about how “her little boy is all grown up” and insist that he stop by the farm to pick up a pie to take to dinner with him. (“You can just say that I sent it to you for your birthday!”)

So when it comes time for the Last Son of Krypton to make his way to Gotham City, the debate is still ranging in his head… is this a _date_ or is it just to think Clark for looking after her adopted son during her absence and assisting with her escape from the clutches of a supervillain while stuck in civilian mode?”

In any case, Clark swings by Smallville and picks up his mom’s pie before heading towards Wayne Manor. Clark intends to enter via the cave, as he usually does when visiting Batwoman and Robin, however as he starts his descent he notices Rachel, sitting on a stone bench beneath a weeping willow on the western side of the Manor. As Clark slowly descends towards the Billionaire Ace races across the lawn, a red ball in his mouth, which the dog drops in front of his master. Rachel praises the dog for returning the ball and ruffles the fur on top of his head before throwing the ball for him to fetch again.

“Hello Clark.” The Princess of Gotham glances up at Clark, a small smirk on her face as she catches sight of the pie in the Kryptonian’s hands. “Is that for us?”

“My mother insisted.” Clark explains as his feet touch the grass. “She um… she doesn’t know that it’s for you— I told her I was having dinner with a friend.”

“And here I was thinking that Martha Kent heard you were eating dinner with Rachel Wayne and decided that even Billionaires need homemade pie.” Rachel remarks as she rises to her feet.

Gotham’s Dark Knight is wearing plain black jeans, a red long sleeve v-neck t-shirt and red converse high tops. There is a black shawl lying on the bench she had been sitting on, which Rachel grabs before she starts walking towards the Manor. Clark falls into step beside her on the right while Ace, who is still chewing on his ball and happily wagging his tail, trots along on her left. Rachel doesn’t put the shawl on, instead she continues to hold it loosely in one hand, so that a few of the tassels which make up it’s fringe occasionally drags along the garden path beneath her feet.

“Well your mom has earned Dick’s unending devotion.” Rachel adds as they approach the door to the Manor’s kitchen, through which Clark can see Alfred Pennyworth fussing over something on the stove. “That boy’s got a sweet tooth a mile long.”

“Not a pie person?” Clark asks.

“Not as much as Dick is.” Rachel replies, opening the sliding glass door and stepping aside so that Clark and Ace can enter the Manor ahead of her. Ace pauses by the door to drop his ball into a little basket of dog toys before heading over to where a bowl of dog food sits beside a bowl of water on a small mat.

“Hey Clark.” Dick says in greeting, drawing the Man of Steel’s attention to the young hero, who is sitting on the left side of a booth built into the wall of the kitchen. Batwoman’s partner has what appears to be a copy of _The Tattler_ spread out on the table in front of him.

“You shouldn’t read that, it’ll rot your brain.” Rachel remarks, effortlessly swiping the pie from Clark’s hands and setting it down on the counter before heading over to the kitchen sink to wash her hands.

“But it’s so amusing!” Dick protests, a smile on his face as Clark slides into the booth so that he is sitting opposite the younger man. “This issue has all these hilariously bad photoshops of you—there’s even one where you’re in a straight jacket!”

“Straight jacket?” Clark blinks, leaning over to get a better view of the photo in question.

“It’s one of the more common idea people have about where Ray was during her six years away from Gotham—” Dick starts to explain, only to be cut off by the sound of a phone ringing.

“That’ll be Mr. Fox— he called earlier while you were out with Ace.” Alfred informs his employer, passing her the phone. “Wayne Enterprises business I believe.”

“I’ll be right back.” Rachel mumbles as she take the phone and heads out of the kitchen. “Lucius! Sorry I missed your call earlier…”

“Every now and then a tabloid will decide to fill it’s empty pages with speculation on Miss Wayne’s whereabouts during her absence from Gotham.” Alfred explains as he pulls the makings of a salad out of the fridge. “Most seem to have accepted that she was confined at some mental institution for the majority, if not all, of that time.”

“So where was she really?”

“Asia mostly. Dick replies as he folds up the tabloid. “I mean, she spent some time like, all over the world, but she spent a lot of time in this super remote area of China. She even spent time in a Chinese Prison!”

“What?!” Clark blinks, glancing over at Alfred Pennyworth for confirmation of what Dick Grayson is saying.

“Master Grayson is correct Mr. Kent.” Alfred has a small smile on his face as he heads towards the booth with a large bowl of salad in his hands, which he places in between the four plates and silverware which have been set out. “That is where she met Henri Ducard, whom I believe you’ve had the… ‘pleasure’ of meeting.”

“Um, the name isn’t ringing any bells.” Clark admits as he serves himself from the salad bowl.

“Remember the ninjas who attacked the Watchtower?” Rachel asks as she renters the room, placing the phone back on it’s charger on the kitchen countertop before heading towards the booth, a bottle of wine in her hands. “Henri Ducard was the man leading those ninjas.”

As Rachel sits down next to Clark she hands the bottle of wine over to her butler, who opens the bottle in a single smooth motion and fills the Billionaire’s glass before moving to fill Clark’s.

“Wine doesn’t effect me.” Clark informs him, however the butler simply fills his glass anyway.

“The wine will enhance the flavor of the food.” Alfred Pennyworth explains, filling his own glass before filling Dick’s glass with what looks like sparkling apple cider. “This is Sea Smoke Vineyard’s ‘Botella’, a Pinot Noir from California.

“Okay…” Clark blinks as he looks down at the wine glass, before he decides to put it off until the main course and turns his attention back to Rachel Wayne, who is serving herself from the salad bowl. “So not only were you trained by ninjas, but they were ninjas that you met in a Chinese prison…”

“Oh, I didn’t _meet_ them in the prison, that’s just where Ducard found me.” Rachel replies, pushing the bowl over to Dick. “Salad or no Robin for a week.”

Dick Grayson grumbles and reluctantly serves himself some of the salad as Clark finds himself unable to bite back a giggle at the pout upon the young hero’s face.

_“_ Yeah, that was _fun_ to learn about.” Dick remarks, taking a sip of his sparkling apple cider. “Even if Mom wouldn’t show me some of the cooler ninja stuff.”

“He’s just pissed that I wouldn’t get him a katana of his own.” Rachel whispers conspiratorially to Clark before taking a small sip form her wine galss.

“She won’t even let me use a practice one!” Dick protests.

“Alfred’s orders.” Rachel replies, not missing a beat even as she reaches over to pet Ace, who has come up to rest his head on the end of the booth’s seat to his master’s left.

“So you’re the expert on Batwoman now, are you?” Clark asks.

“Well… I know a lot.” Dick shrugs. “I mean, I’ve even watched all the footage— and I could have lived _without_ seeing the footage when the Joker kissed her.”

“What?!?” Clark squeaks comically, drawing laughter from Dick Grayson and a smirk from Rachel Wayne and Alfred Pennyworth, who excuses himself to fetch the next course of dinner. “When did this happen?”

“After Ray came back from Metropolis.” Dick explains. “The Joker broke into Arkham to threaten Harley Quinn for making Rachel fall over the side of that building and he got Ivy to tie Batwoman up… and then he kissed her.”

“Don’t worry, I got to kick him in the family jewels again.” Rachel notes. “And that night ended with the Joker back in Arkham, so it all ended well enough.”

“…so why did he—” Clark begins to ask, only to be cut off by Dick Grayson, who reaches across the table and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t try to understand the Joker.” Dick sighs as Alfred Pennyworth returns with four plates— one in hand and one balanced on a forearm on each side —which he effortlessly transfers on to the table in front of them. “It’s impossible to even try… or at least it is for anyone _other than_ Ray.”

“Chicken parmesan over linguini with red marinara sauce.” Alfred informs Clark as he sits back down in the booth.

“No Ace.” Rachel scolds her dog as he whimpers pitifully from his position at her feet before moving under the table. Clark can feel the dog rubbing against his legs as he makes his way over to Dick Grayson, who smiles but shakes his head.

“He’s well trained.” Clark remarks as he notices that, despite being large enough to lunge up and steal food off the table, Ace is simple begging the humans for scraps.

“Just watch out for the puppy eyes.” Rachel smirks as she cuts into her chicken parmesan. “He may not be a puppy any longer, but he can still turn on the charm.”

Before Clark can reply Ace shuffles over and rests his head upon his knee and gazes up at the Man of Steel forlornly, as if he has eaten in _forever_ and would it really be _that_ bad if Clark gave him just a _little_ bit of your food.”

“Never underestimate the power of puppy eyes.” Clark smiles as he “accidentally” drops a bit of chicken on to the floor where it is almost instantly scoffed down by Ace, drawing a smile from the Manor’s three human in habitants. “Although I’ll admit it’s a little odd seeing them on… what kind of dog is he anyways?”

“We think he’s a mix of Great Dane and German Sheppard.” Dick tells him. “But since Ray found him in an alley we’re not sure.”

“You found him in an alley?” Clark blinks as he looks down at the dog, who has curled up underneath the table.

“It was New Years Eve.” Rachel explains. “I’d gone to Police Headquarters to visit with the Commissioner and was returning to the Tumbler.”

“That’s your tank right?” Clark jokes, earring him a sigh from Rachel, a smirk from Alfred and a giggle from Dick.

“Tanks have tracks. The Tumbler has wheels.” Rachel points out. “I’d left the Tumbler in an alley and I hear something moving in the trash cans. As I got closer I heard something whimpering and there Ace was—shivering in the snow.”

“When Miss Wayne brought him home she could pick him up in one hand.” Alfred informs Clark. “Now I am reasonably sure that Ace could pick her up should he desire to do so.”

“He certainly loves to pull me around whenever I walk him.” Dick notes. “There was that one time, where the snow had melted a little but then it froze?”

Rachel actually drops her fork and starts laughing, her now free hand rising to cover her mouth as her entire body shakes. As the Billionaire tries to calm her laughter Dick leans forward and continues his story.

“So there’s a fence around the gardens on the west side, that’s why Ace is free to go out there if he wants, but the rest isn’t fenced till you reach the gates, so when we go out there to walk him we keep him on a leash, cause sometimes we get deer and stuff and once he tried to chase them and we couldn’t find him for _hours_.” Dick explains as Rachel slowly regains control of herself. “So Mom and I are walking Ace, and I was holding the leash cause we were going on and off the path, when we hit this bit of ice that we can’t see, since it doesn’t _look_ like ice.”

“I’d just told Dick to slow down, so he’s trying to do that, but Ace is still going full tilt.” Rachel adds, still giggling a little. “But Ace is just a bit to the side of the path, so he doesn’t hit the ice but Dick does. So Ace just keeps running, while Dick goes sliding across the ice, _somehow_ staying upright until he reaches the last bit of ice, which I guess must have been sloped a bit.”

“Ace just keeps going and pulling me along… and that’s when I basically go airborne.” Dick smirks, pantomiming this with his hands. “Now _that’s_ when Ace finally decides to stop… and about two seconds after he stops I land on top of him.”

“So of course I’m worried that Dick’s broken something and Dick is trying to figure out what just happened, but all Ace does is decide that this means Dick wants to wrestle with him.” Rachel shakes her head and she sets down her silverware on her now empty plate. “By the time we got back to the Manor all three of us were soaked but Ace was acting like he’d just had the best day ever.”

“Master Grayson refused to hold Ace’s leash during walks for several weeks afterwards, even after we salted the paths.” Alfred notes. “Even nowadays I’ve found myself walking Ace more often then not.”

“That’s cause he never tries to pull you around.” Dick grumbles. “I don’t get it. I can beat crooks up without breaking a sweat but I can’t stop a _dog_ from dragging me around.”

“They’re two separate things.” Rachel remarks with a shrug.

“Besides—your still growing. One day you’ll be able to stop Ace from yanking you around.” Clark adds. “I mean, even I got pushed around a bit by our family dog.”

“… really?” Dick asks, obviously not really believing Clark. “What kind of dog did you have?”

“Well he was dosed up on a kryptonite-steroid serum at the time.” Clark admits with a smile. ”Shelby’s a golden retriever. He still lives with my mom in Smallville, though he’s gotten old and fat.”

“Okay to be completely honest I thought Rachel was making stuff up when she said you were form a place called _Smallville_.”

“Creamed corn capital of the world… and then meteorite capital of the world.” Clark notes. “My ship unfortunately ended up landing with a bunch of meteors from Krypton.”

“It’s a miracle you survived long enough to become Superman, given the amount of Kryptonite in the area.” Rachel notes. “I mean, there was enough of the stuff to cause a ton of mutations in the local population.”

“Yeah I had to deal with that a lot growing up.” Clark sighs, passing his now empty plate to Rachel, who stacks her’s on top of it before doing the same with Dick and Alfred’s, while the Wayne Family Butler moves to retrieve the pie which Clark had brought with him. “Sometimes it seemed like every week there was some meteor mutant who had a grudge and had decided to use his or her powers to settle that grudge.”

“What happened to them?” Dick asks as Rachel stands and takes the dishes over to the kitchen sink, as Alfred cuts the pie and starts to portion it out for the four of them.

“Well, some of them either always had or managed to get a hold on things. Some mutations were just… non-threatening? Like there was this farmer who re-grew a finger he’d lost on one hand but lost two toes in the process.” Clark replies as a large slice of Martha Kent’s homemade apple pie with a scoop of vanilla ice cream is set down in front of him.. “The Isis Foundation helped a lot of them, and still does good work. Unfortunately a bunch ended up in Belle Reve and other mental institutions and prisons.”

“That sucks… but I mean it’s kinda better the Gotham.” Dick remarks as Alfred had him his slice of pie and scoop of ice cream. “All the crooks we encounter end up going back to Arkham or Blackgate… and then going back to crime when they get out or break out.”

“Not always.” Rachel remarks, as she sits down and Alfred places a more moderately sized slice of pie and scoop of ice cream in front of her before he serves himself. “Wayne Enterprises has had a lot of success with it’s various rehabilitation programs and we’ve definitely improved things for the girls in the Bowery.”

“Thos girls are _awesome_.” Dick informs Clark, gesturing with his fork. “There was this one time Jervis Tetch—you know, the ‘Mad Hatter’? Well he escaped from Arkham and one of the girls handcuffed him to a motel bed and call Batwoman.”

“Girls?” Clark asks, glancing over at Rachel, who is very slowly eating the pi which her adopted son is all but inhaling.

“Working girls.” Rachel explains. “I struck up an arrangement with them a long time ago— they keep clean and get underage girls to go to the right programs that’ll help them and, in return, I make sure that they don’t get pushed around… be it by pimps, johns or cops..”

Rachel trails off, looking down at what remains of her slice of pie—little more then the crust and a little puddle of ice cream melt—as Dick finishes his slice and casts a covetous glance at the pie which had been left after Alfred served everyone.

“Can I have more?” Dick asks and Clark isn’t sure if he’s directing the question at Alfred or at Rachel.

“You’ll be bouncing off the walls.” Rachel replies, gesturing with her fork. “ _And_ it’s not a Robin night so no, that is not a good thing.”

“Indeed.” Alfred Pennyworth adds. “And unless I am very much mistaken, there are still a few questions left on the worksheet I assigned you.”

Dick groans and theatrically slums over on the table as Clark smiles and eats the last bite of his pie. After a deep sigh the young hero pulls himself upright and, after Alfred slides out of the booth, heads over to the kitchen counter, where he retrieves several loose papers and a small pencil pouch.

“If I don’t finish then Alfred and Mom won’t let me listen in while she does rounds tonight.” Dick explains to the Last Son of Krypton as Rachel slides out of the booth and moves to help Alfred stack up the dishes in the sink.

“Well I would hate to deny you Batwoman-watching time.” Clark smiles as he stands up, before reaching over to ruffle the younger man’s hair. “See you around Robin.”

“See you Superman!” Dick smiles before heading off, Ace following close behind him.

“I’ll deal with the dishes Miss Wayne, why don’t you see our guest out?” Alfred suggests and, after a moment, the Billionaire heads over towards the door which leads out into the garden and holds it open for the Man of Steel.

“I hope that wasn’t too horrible.” Rachel mutters as the two step outside into the cool evening air. The sun is just starting to set over Gotham, bathing the sky in red and gold.

“I had a great time.” Clark replies as he falls into step beside the Dark Knight. “Much better then eating alone again, or getting dragged to whatever dive dinner Lois is obsessed with this month.”

“Such a hard life you lead.” Rachel smirks as the two absentmindedly drift towards the edge of the garden, where Gotham’s Princess had been sitting when Clark arrived. “I don’t know _how_ you manage to fit in all those hours of flying around in your underwear.”

“It’s not underwear!” Clark practically squeaks, a blush spreading over his cheeks. “You shouldn’t talk, you’re the one with _ears_.”

“ _Those_ have a purpose.” Rachel replies as the two reach the weeping willow. “Just admit it, your jealous of my superior outfit.”

Clark turns towards Rachel and opens his mouth to reply with some sort of joke, only to stop short. The light of the setting sun is slanting through the branches of the weeping willow, giving a sort of orange-red tint to the entire scene and a light wind is sweeping Rachel’s hair over her shoulders and towards Clark. Without being fully conscious of his actions, Clark finds himself reaching forward to rest a hand on Rachel Wayne’s hip and, when she does not object, he leans forward, his hand moving around so that his palm is against the small of her back as he leans in. Clark can hear her heart speeding up, feels his own rise to match as his lips part slightly and he leans down to—

_“Superman— your presence is required on the Watchtower.”_

_“Batwoman— your presence is required on the Watchtower.”_

Rachel Wayne and Clark Kent all but spring apart as their Justice League communicators go off and the Martian Manhunter’s prerecorded voice rings in their ears.

“I need to go change.” Rachel mutters as Clark awkwardly takes a step back. “I’ll meet you there.”

“Okay.” Clark mutters as Rachel strides off, not quite running but not exactly walking either. After taking a second to sigh and run a hand through his hair Clark super speeds into his suit and flies off away from the Manor… just in case anyone check the teleporter’s logs and starts wondering what Superman was doing at Rachel Wayne’s home.


	43. Ab Actu Ad Posse Valet Illatio

_Ab Actu Ad Posse Valet Illatio = Latin for “From What Has Happened We May Infer What Will Happen”_

 

Clark Kent’s hand is warm against her hip and, as the Last Son of Krypton leans down towards her it becomes increasingly hard for Rachel Wayne to breathe normally. This only becomes harder as the alien’s hand slowly moves so that it is pressing against the small of her back and, without thinking, the Dark Knight’s lips fall open ever so slightly. Part of Rachel wants to reach out, to touch the Man of Steel so that she can convince herself that this is real, that this is not just some sort of strange daydream in which Clark is leaning forward to—

_“Superman— your presence is required on the Watchtower.”_

_“Batwoman— your presence is required on the Watchtower.”_

Rachel Wayne practically leaps away from Clark Kent as the Martian Manhunter’s prerecorded voice interrupts the moment. Despite the fact that she wants nothing more than to let out a very long and very colorful stream of swearwords, Rachel forces herself to fall into the role of Gotham’s Dark Knight.

“I need to go change.” She informs Superman, who takes an awkward step away from her at the sudden change in the atmosphere between them. “I’ll meet you there.”

“Okay.” Clark replies as Rachel heads back towards the Manor, picking up speed as she enters the kitchen and all but runs towards the nearest entrance to the Batcave.

“Miss Wayne?” Alfred asks as he manages to slip into the elevator to the cave mere seconds before the doors close.

“Call from the Justice League.” She explains. “I’m needed on the Watchtower—is the teleporter scrambler running yet?”

“Yes, and I’ve taken the liberty of putting it through a few ‘dry runs’.” Alfred informs her as the elevator doors opens on the Batcave. “The League’s computers will record any trips from the Manor and the Cave as originating from the various alleys and rooftops in downtown Gotham.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Due to the fact that it takes Clark next to no time to both change into his suit and fly far enough away from the Manor that no one will be asking what he was doing there, Superman teleports on to the Watchtower less than five minutes after receiving his summons, where the station’s computer directs him to a small conference room next door to the teleporters.

Green Arrow is sitting in one of the chairs nearest the door, while what appears to be security camera footage is displayed on the various screens which are built into the conference room’s table in front of him. The archer from Star City looks like he’s just lost a boxing match with Wildcat and is holding a bag of ice against his forehead.

“What happened?” Clark asks as he sits down in a chair to the right of Oliver Queen.

“I got my ass kicked.” Ollie replies, wincing slightly as he turns towards the Man of Steel. “And I didn’t even get a good picture of the woman who did it… this is the best I could pull off the cameras.”

Oliver points to one of the screens in front of him, where a slightly blurry black and white image of a woman dressed in what looks an awful lot like a roman legionnaire’s uniform—complete with a helmet, albeit a somewhat stylized one— is frozen midway through tossing Green Arrow around. The woman is turned away from the camera, making it impossible to see her face or describe her appearance aside from the fact that her hair might be blond, due to how light it appears in the black and white footage.

“… I feel like I’ve seen that sort of outfit before.” Clark muses. “What’s going on?”

“I’ll tell you just as soon as the others get here.” Oliver replies, shifting the ice pact a little. “No use repeating myself.”

“Who are we waiting on?”

“Batwoman and Wonder Man.” Green Arrow taps at one of the touch screens, bringing up what looks like the Watchtower’s teleporter logs. “Looks like they just got here.”

Mere moments later the doors to the conference room open and the Amazon Prince steps in, followed closely by Gotham’s Dark Knight. Both heroes immediately move over to the conference table to inspect the security camera footage and Clark keeps his eyes focused on Green Arrow while he desperately tries _not_ to think about how he’d almost kissed Batwoman less than ten minutes ago.

“What’s going on?” Batwoman ask Oliver, her voice harsher and more gravely then Clark has heard in some time.

“Break in at Star City Biotech.” Green Arrow explains as he pulls up a map of the lab in question. “They triggered the silent alarm, I was on patrol nearby, so I showed up before the police and found a bunch of villains robbing the place.”

“A bunch?” David inquires, one hand idly playing with the lasso of truth as he leans back in his chair.

“Copperhead, Shade, Solomon Grundy, Star Sapphire and Tsukuri.” As Green Arrow lists off the villains involved in the heist their mug shots from previous arrests appear on screen, followed by the image of the woman who’d roughed Oliver up that he show to Clark earlier. “But they were following this woman— she tossed me around like a rag doll and just walked away. This is the best image I’ve been able to coax from the security footage.”

“So you don’t know who she is?” Batwoman asks, her attention turning towards another screen on the table as she starts typing furiously, all the while glaring down at the screen as if she can scare the footage into coughing up a better image of the mystery ringleader.

“Well, I managed to grab this off of her while she was distracted.” Green Arrow replies, reaching into one of the pockets on his utility belt and pulling out a gold necklace. The necklace is mostly comprised of a large c-shaped band of engraved metal, with chains on either end which must have been connected before Ollie pulled it off his attacker. “Also take a look at our mystery lady’s wrists.”

“She’s wearing bracers.” Batwoman remarks as Wonder Man takes the necklace from Green Arrow and inspects it.

“You think she’s an Amazon.” Clark realizes.

“Well, she sure punched like an Amazon.” Oliver remarks.

“This _is_ of Amazon design—but it could be a forgery.” David sighs as he hands the necklace back to Oliver. “Stealing is against our code and we _never_ leave the island.”

“ _Never?_ ” Batwoman mutters and Clark finds himself wondering how in the hell the Dark Knight manages to so clearly convey an eyebrow raise while wearing her cowl. After a half second of silence Batwoman turns her attention away from the Amazon Prince and back to Green Arrow. “What did she steal?”

“Some sort of plant culture—fallopian japonica?” Ollie shrugs as he brings up the relevant information on a screen for the Dark Knight to inspect. “SCB was looking into medicinal uses—apparently it might have some effect against certain types of cancer.”

“There are much more valuable—not to mention _dangerous_ —items that these villains could have gone after.” Batwoman notes. “Doesn’t SCB have samples of the 1918 Spanish Flu virus that was reconstructed from the 1997 Brevig Mission?”

“Yeah, along with a few other nasty bugs… but _those_ were all in a different section of the facility.” Green Arrow replies. “David are you sure she’s not an Amazon?”

“It…” Wonder Man hesitates for a second, his gaze focusing in on the security footage as he crosses his arms over his chest. “It is _possible_ , however I find it unlikely. I was the first to leave the island and I have never heard of any one of my sisters desiring to explore Man’s World.”

“And you haven’t heard anything from the island?” Clark asks.

“No, not since my last visit.” David replies, his discomfort clear. It is no secret among the more senior members of the Justice League—and among those members who are close to Wonder Man—that the Amazon Prince has not spoken to his mother or “sisters” for some time and that the reasons behind this can not be entirely blamed upon communication difficulties between Themyscria and “Men’s World”. “My mother would alert me if anyone left the island, but I can return to speak with her…”

“If this woman _is_ an Amazon then you’d be more effective here—I’ve seen you spar with Superman.” Batwoman cuts in as she reaches forward and picks up the necklace. “I’ll go to Themyscria and see if your people can shed any light upon our situation.”

“That would be wise… if she is an Amazon then I will be able to identify her.” David notes. “Perhaps even convince her to cease this criminal activity.”

“Will your League communicator work on Themyscria?” Clark asks, trying his best not to feel disappointed when Batwoman doesn’t look at him as she answers his question.

“Yes—there may be some static or a delay, but otherwise there shouldn’t be a problem.” Batwoman replies as she puts the necklace into a pocket of her utility belt and stands up. “I’ll contact the Watchtower as soon as I reach the island.”

“You won’t be able to teleport down.” David points out. “There is a shield in pla—”

“That hides the island from the outside world. I know.” Batwoman cuts off the Prince. “I’m teleporting to my jet and flying to Themyscira. If need be I can set my jet in hover mode and glide down.”

“I have told my mother and sisters of my adventures in Men’s World with the Justice League.” David informs the Dark Knight. “They should recognize you from my tales.”

As Batwoman leaves the room the Last Son of Krypton mumbles something to Green Arrow and Wonder Man— even he doesn’t know what exactly— and heads off after the Dark Knight, not quite sure of what he plans to say to her, just feeling the need to try and say something, anything, to the Dark Knight and get pass the wall he is afraid is rising between the two of them.

“This isn’t the time Superman.” Batwoman remarks as she starts programming the League’s teleporter, all the while not looking at the Man of Steel, despite the fact that he is all but hovering around her.

“I just—”

“ _Not now Clark_.” The Dark Knight practically growls and, before Superman can say anything, she steps into the teleporter and is gone.

“What’s wrong with Batwoman?” Wonder Man asks from the doorway, apparently having followed the other two heroes out of the conference room.

“It’s… complicated.” Clark sighs as he turns towards the Amazon. “I assume that Green Arrow is looking for our mystery woman’s trail?”

“Yes—Oliver’s not in any condition to chase after her himself.’ David replies. “Arrow will remain on the Watchtower and we will go down to Star City to search the old fashioned way.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The Dark Knight had, during her trip around the world which had ended with her meeting Henri Ducard in a Chinese Prison, passed through Greece and even visited a few of the islands while she was traveling with Giovanni Zatara—a magician who made a living as an escape artist and stage magician. Themyscira reminds Batwoman of the more desolate of those islands, the ones she had only seen from a distance, while onboard ferries to other, more populated ones.

From the Batjet she can see one large city which looks like something out of a story book— stately white stone building, elegant fountains and grand statues— surrounded by a lush forest and picturesque sand beaches with crystal clear water. The Dark Knight sets her jet down on a beach near the city, steps out and doesn’t move as three women— all clad in outfits similar to what the supposed Amazon had been wearing on the Star City Biotech security feed— step out of the forest. Two of the women are armed with a short sword and a shield, the third has a shield and a spear, while among the trees the Dark Knight can see at least two more women, with bows drawn and arrows trained upon her.

“Who are you stranger?” The apparent leader of the group—a tall woman with dark skin and long black hair—asks as she stops in front of Batwoman in a fighting stance, clearly ready for and expecting an attack. “What are you doing on Themyscira?”

“I am Batwoman, a member of the Justice League.” The Dark Knight replies, moving her arms so that her cape draws back, revealing to the Amazons that her hands are empty and there is no (obvious) weapon hanging from her belt. “I am investigating a crime and need to speak with your Queen.”

“Lay down your weapons Batwoman and we shall take you to Queen Hippolyta.”

With a nod and slow, deliberate movements the Dark Knight reaches down and undoes her utility belt before tossing it on to the ground in front of the Amazons. The one with the spear twists it around so that she can poke experimentally at the belt with the wooden end of her spear.

“It will only shock you if you attempt to open it.” Batwoman informs the Amazons and, after another good poke from her spear, the Amazons picks it up and the group’s leader gestures for Batwoman to follow her. Once Batwoman starts walking the other two Amazons who had come out on to the beach fall into step behind her, while the two who had remained into the trees appear on either side to escort her to the Amazon Queen.

The Amazon’s city is surrounded by well kept fields, tended by Amazons who pause in the labors to observe the soldiers escorting the Dark Knight. This curiosity is also shared by the Amazons in the city— Batwoman frequently catches glimpses of Amazons bending close in whispered conversation after catching sight of her and her escort. It also seems that news of her arrival has leaped ahead of her escort via such whispers, since there are more and more Amazons looking down on Batwoman and her escort from windows or peering at her from alleys the closer they get to a large building, which is obviously Queen Hippolyta’s palace.

The Queen of the Amazons is seated upon a rather simple throne—in fact Batwoman would just call it a stone bench, if not for the fact that it was on a dias, the Queen was sitting on it and it was flanked by Amazons who were obviously the Queen’s royal guard. Queen Hippolyta wears a long dress of fine white cloth with golden trim, with a cloak of deep purple draped across her shoulders. Like all Amazons, Hippolyta wears bracers, although hers are gold as opposed to steel. Additionally she wears a golden torque around her neck, thin golden hoops adorn her ears and atop her head is a thicker version of the golden tiara that David wears. Batwoman can see a sword peaking out from underneath Hippolyta’s cape and knows from David’s stories that the Queen definitely knows how to use it.

Even if the Dark Knight did not know that Queen Hippolyta was David’s mother she is fairly confident that she would be able to identify the two as kin— the Queen of the Amazons bears an uncanny resemblance to her son. If David had been “born” as the daughter that Hippolyta had (undoubtedly) been expecting then he and his mother would be practically identical.

The leader of the Amazons who had met Batwoman on the beach takes the Dark Knight’s utility belt from the Amazon with the spear and approaches her Queen. Batwoman stares straight ahead as the two converse and Queen Hippolyta inspects the utility belt before dismissing the leader of Batwoman’s escort with a single gesture and turning her attention to the Dark Knight.

“Queen Hippolyta.” Batwoman says as she bows respectfully to David’s mother.

“Philipus says you are investigating a crime.” As she speaks the Queen places Batwoman’s utility belt on the side of her throne.

“We believe one of your Amazons may be involved.”

“This is a serious accusation—what proof have you?”

“If I may?” Batwoman asks, gesturing to the utility belt at the Queen’s side.

Hippolyta seems to consider the question for a moment, before picking up the utility belt and tossing it to the Dark Knight, who effortlessly catches it and pulls out the necklace which she’d gotten from Green Arrow.

The moment the golden necklace emerges from the pouch of the utility belt which Batwoman had place it in, it is clear that several members of the Dark Knight’s escort recognizes the necklace. Queen Hippolyta’s gaze is fixed upon the necklace as she steps down from the dias her throne sits upon and approaches Batwoman. The Dark Knight drops the necklace into the Queen’s outstretched hand and, as Hippolyta inspect it, reattaches her utility belt around her waist.

“Have horses made ready.” Hippolyta orders one of her Amazons before she hands the necklace to the leader of the group that had met Batwoman on the beach— whom the Dark Knight assumes is the “Philipus” the Queen had spoken of. “This belongs to one named Aresia. She is supposed to be in solitary meditation on the far side of the island— come, I will show you the way.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Batwoman is surprised when only two horses are brought out and even more surprised when, as she and Queen Hippolyta leave the city on horseback, no other Amazons appear to escort them. Hippolyta rides with no saddle, only a plain leather bridle, while thankfully the horse brought out for Batwoman has been saddled— Rachel has ridden bareback before, but she would not want to try doing so while clad in her Batwoman suit and while trying to keep up with the Queen of the Amazons, who rides like a woman possessed.

The place where Areisa is supposed to be in solitary meditation is a tower on a rocky cliff overlooking a secluded beach. Hippolyta does not bother to tie up her horse, choosing instead to leap off it’s back before the beast has come to a stop, so Batomwan leaves her horse beside the Queen’s and follows David’s mother inside the tower… and within seconds it is clear to the Dark Knight that they will not find this “Aresia” on Themyscria.

“No one has been here in weeks.” Batwoman remarks, running her finger through the layer of dust which coats the room’s furniture as Hippolyta strikes a flint and lights several candles.

“I feared as much.” The Queen admits as he glances around the room.

“Why was Aresia here?”

“It was the final step of her rebirth… Aresia was not born an Amazon— she comes from Man’s World.” Queen Hippolyta explains. “Her home was devastated by a civil war, which she and her mother fled from aboard a refugee ship. That ship was attacked by pirates, who sank it after robbing the refugees of their meager possessions… Aresia washed ashore not far from this tower.”

“So you adopted her… and made her into an Amazon.”

“Yes.” Hippolyta sighs. “I’ve often wondered if we did the right thing, but how could we refuse?”

“You couldn’t.” Batwoman practically whispers, thinking not of Aresia, but of her own adopted son… and of a farmer and his wife who found a baby inside a spaceship so many years ago.

“And now she has deserted us.” Hippolyta sinks down on to a nearby chair, her gaze falling upon Batwoman once more. “What has Aresia done?”

“A member of the Justice League found her leading a robbery.” Batwoman informs the Queen of the Amazons as she inspects Aresia’s tower… and something catches her eye. As the Queen watches the Dark Knight kneels down and inspects one of the stones which make up the room’s wall—only to reach out and yank the stone away, revealing a hidden compartment, from which she pulls dozens of books.

“I assume that Aresia shouldn’t have these?” Batwoman asks.

“No, these should be in the restricted section of our library.” The Queen replies as she sorts through the pile, which mostly consists of various books about “Men’s World”. “We believe contact with the outside world will corrupt us.”

_No wonder David is reluctant to visit._ Batwoman thinks as she turns over one of the larger books—  An Encyclopedia of Magical Botony… which falls open to an illustration of a plant which looks an awful lot like bamboo.

“ _Fallopia japonica._ ” Batwoman’s eyes widen behind her cowl as she quickly scans the text beside the illustration and her brain starts to connect the dots.

“Fallopia japonica?” Hippolyta asks, her brow furrowed.

“It’s a plant, commonly known as Japanese Knotweed… Aresia stole a concentrated culture of it from Star City Biotech.” The Dark Knight explains as she closes the book and looks up at the Queen. “And it’s supposed to help get rid of enemies when used in magical rituals and potions.”

“Get rid of enemies…” Hippolyta whispers, clearly catching on to what Batwoman has deduced. “Oh Aresia…”

“Looks like we know what she’s planning.” Batwoman remarks as she activates her Justice League communicator. “Watchtower, come in Watchtower— this is Batwoman.”

“We hear you Batwoman— there’s a lot of static but we can hear you.” Green Arrow’s voice is somewhat muffled, but still understandable.

“You need to get every male member of the League out of Star City, and call in all the female members you can.” Batwoman informs him. “Our ‘mystery woman’ is an Amazon named Aresia and she’s working on some sort of potion that will target men.”

“Oh—” A burst of static almost, but not quite, swallows up a string of curse words that Green Arrow lets loose.

“What’s happened?”

“Aresia attacked a gem depository—it looks like our rogue Amazon’s already _has_ her magic doohickey working.” Oliver Queen explains. “She’s used it on Superman—he’s down for the count.”

Batwoman’s mind screams to a halt as her hands fist at her sides and she struggles to control her breathing.

“Batwoman?” Ollie asks, clearly thinking that the Dark Knight’s League communicator had lost signal. “Batwoman do you copy?”

“I’m on my way.” Batwoman manages to force the words out through gritted teeth.

 

_Author’s Notes:_

This chapter (and the next) are adapted from the _Justice League_ episode “ _Fury_ ”.

Info on the 1997 Brevig Mission / 1918 Spanish flu that Batwoman mentions [can be found here](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brevig_Mission,_Alaska#1918_Spanish_Flu).

Queen Hippolyta’s appearance is heavily influenced by [her appearance in the 2009 _Wonder Woman_ animated movie](http://vignette2.wikia.nocookie.net/dcmovies/images/f/ff/Hippolyta_2009-07.jpg/revision/latest/scale-to-width/640?cb=20120315003453).

It took me a while to figure out the pusdo-science which I’d use for Aresia’s plan. I ended up doing google searches for plants used in “dark” magic and came up with [this site](http://www.erzulies.com/herbs-of-the-darker-arts/) which says knotweed is used to “get rid of ones enemy” while [this site](https://www.beneficialbotanicals.com/tincture-information/japanese-knotweed.html) says that Japanese Knotweed may be beneficial in pancreatic, breast and ovarian cancers due to the presence of resveratrol.


	44. De Fumo In Flammam

_De Fumo In Fammam = Latin for “Out Of The Smoke Into The Flames”_

 

The moment that the Batjet is far enough away from Themyscira that the island’s shield won’t interfere with the League’s teleporters, the Dark Knight is off, leaving the jet to fly back to Gotham on autopilot, while she teleports up on to the Watchtower and makes her way to the conference room where she and Superman had met Green Arrow earlier that night. The archer is still bent over the screens on the conference table, but he has been joined by Zatana Zatara, the Mistress of Magic... whom Batwoman has met face to face, though not true-name to true-name.

“This is everything Aresia left behind.” Batwoman says, handing off what she’d found to Zatanna before turning towards Oliver Queen. “Have you been heard from Wayne Enterprises yet?”

“Yes, Queen Enterprises has received the _Fallopia japonica_ culture samples from Gotham— do thank your Billionaire for me.” Queen replies. _There are advantages to the League thinking that I’m employed by Rachel Wayne_. Batwoman muses as Zatanna opens the packet of notes the Dark Knight had taken from Aresia’s tower on Themyscira and starts inspecting them.

“How far as this thing spread?” Batwoman asks, trying to keep calm and focus on the data which Green Arrow and the Mistress of Magic have gathered.

“So far it’s only infected members of the League. Aresia got Superman and we think Green Lantern and the Flash ‘caught’ it from him.” Zatanna replies. “We’ve been throwing everything we have at this— both mundane and magical— but so far their conditions just keep deteriorating.”

“What about Wonder Man?” The Dark Knight asks, struggling not to focus all her attention on the screen on the conference room table which Zatanna has brought up the three heroes’ vitals on.

“David doesn’t seem to be infected and I’ve got a clean bill of health.” The Emerald Archer replies. “We’ve got the others in isolation, with only female members of our medical staff keeping an eye on them _and_ they go through a full medical and magical decontamination process before any interaction with anyone else.”

“We also have all female members of the League on standby.” Zatanna adds, running a hand through her hair.

“And you’re consulting with all League members who have magical abilities or knowledge.” Batwoman notes, gesturing to the various emails, instant messages and video feeds that are scattered over the screens which are built into the conference table in front of the three of them.

“I’ve also called in favors with various Homo Magi, but it’ll still take a while before we come up with anything.” The Mistress of Magic explains. “Aresiia seems to have made up her own spell— or more likely a potion of some sort, given how it hasn’t just straight out killed everyone yet.”

“So you don’t have a readymade counter spell.” Batwoman realizes.

“Exactly… you know for someone who supposedly _hates_ magic, you have an excellent grasp on how it works.” Zatanna notes.

“Know your enemy.” Batwoman remarks as she continues to scan the information that Zatanna has been able to gather so far. “How long until this thing starts to spread?”

“It already has.” The Dark Knight, the Emerald Archer and the Mistress of Magic turn to find the Prince of Themyscira standing in the doorway to the conference room, visibly distressed by the unfolding events. “Black Cannery just reported in to J’onn— Aresia’s magic has started to affect the male half of Star City.”

“I’ll start calling in League members and ask nearby cities to send over female first responders.” Green Arrow replies, turning towards the screens on the conference room table. “Batwoman, you gonna head down?”

“Yes.” The Dark Knight replies as she starts to head towards the teleporters, only to be stopped by Wonder Man throwing out his hand in front of her to block the doorway.

“I’m going with you.” The Prince of the Amazons informs her.

“You’ll just be in danger of being infected!” Green Arrow objects. “Hell, I want to go down there—that’s my city—but it’s too dangerous. I’d just be adding to the problem, not helping.”

“There’s a rouge Amazon running around and besides, I may be immune to this.” David replies.

“He has a point.” Zatanna concedes with a sigh. “As far as I can tell, David is _technically_ made of clay not… well human stuff.”

“Well Clark isn’t made of ‘human stuff’ and right now he’s unconscious in the medical bay.” Batwoman shoots back, not turning away from Wonder Man.

“We’re wasting time arguing.” David growls, sounding remarkably like the Dark Knight. “We need to find Aresia and stop her.”

“Fine, if you want to risk your own life—

“Wait—” Batwoman interrupts Green Arrow as she turns back towards the conference table where he is sitting with the Mistress of Magic. “Zatanna, you said this was a potion?” Batwoman interrupts Green Arrow as she turns back towards the conference table where he is sitting with the Mistress of Magic.

“Well… if it was a spell then it would have— um, _moved_ differently. Also it wouldn’t have taken this long for it to spread out to effect other men.” Zatanna explains. “I think we’re dealing with a more physical kind of magic— why do you ask?”

“Aresia had book on germ warfare in her tower.” Batwoman explains. “Perhaps she used that as an inspiration—coupled with her childhood memories of how war is waged in ‘Man’s World’?”

“So you think that Aresia is going to use non-magical means to spread this?” David asks.

“There’s an air force base just outside Star City.” Green Arrow notes as he leans over the nearest screen on the conference table and quickly brings up the information on the military installation in question. “And their security alarms all went off not two minutes ago.”

“Three guesses why and the first two don’t count.” Zatanna mutters.

“Then that’s where we’re going.” Batwoman replies as Wonder Man removes his arm, allowing her to pass before he follows her to the teleporters.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Batwoman and Wonder Man reach the air force base it isn’t too hard to find Aresia— there’s a string of knocked out airmen leading from a side entrance to the one and only hanger which has lights on and activity clearly going on within. Despite his more colorful outfit and general attitude of charging into battle instead of sneaking around in the shadows, Wonder Man does a decent enough job of silently following Batwoman as she makes her way through the shadows and into the hanger… where they find Aresia and Tsukuri loading a plane with what look like black oil drums.

“That’s the last one.” Tsukuri informs the rebel Amazon. “All of the elixir is on board and ready to be put in the missiles.”

“Good, then that’s the only unfinished matter to attend to.” Aresia remarks as she turns towards the plane.

“And it will remain unfinished.” Wonder Man declares, springing out from the shadows to attack Aresia. As the two Amazons tussle, Tsukuri moves to aid her employer— only to find herself face to face with the Dark Knight. The Asian mercenary darts away from Batwoman and draws her katana just in time to use it to deflect a batarang. Tsukuri takes a swing at Batwoman, who stops the blade with the scalloped blades of her arm guard and immediately launches a counter attack— as she had long ago been trained to do.

“You’re good— too good to be self taught.” Tsukuri remarks, her eyes narrowing behind the strip of see-through fabric that she wears like a mask over her eyes as the two trade blows. “Who was your teacher?”

“Ra’s Al Ghul.” Batwoman admits, causing the mercenary to freeze just long enough for Batwoman to steal Tsukuri’s katana and hit the mercenary with the pommel, knocking her out. The Dark Knight handcuffs the Asian woman and toss the katana away before she moves to help Wonder Man… who is still locked in combat with Aresia and has apparently been arguing with her “sister” while Batwoman was busy fighting Tsukuri.

“Man’s World may not be perfect, but destroying it is not the answer!”

“So you would stand against your _sisters_?” Aresia hisses, her face twisted in a scowl.

“Yes.” David admits, pain clear in his voice.

“A pity.” Aresia sneers. “You’ve put up a valiant effort David— trying so hard to be what you are not— but no matter what, you won’t stop me.”

Batwoman sees the rogue Amazon reach for a pouch hanging from her belt and, without hesitating, the Dark Knight throws herself in front of David, wrapping her cape around him as Aresia tosses some sort of liquid at the Amazon Prince. The liquid drips down the Dark Knight’s cape for a second before it turns into a fine gas and, even as Batwoman tries to push David away, the Prince starts coughing violently.

Before Batwoman can do anything she finds herself being grabbed by Aresia and thrown away from David. As the Dark Knight lands painfully on the concrete floor of the hanger and skids along it, Aresia stalks over to the Prince of the Amazons, a smirk growing on her face.

“How the mighty have fallen…” Aresia hisses as she leans down next to David and grabs his hair, using it to pull the man to his knees. “Looks like you’re made of flesh after all… my sisters should have torn you limb from limb the moment Hippolyta returned to the palace with you in her arms.”

“You... you _dare_ accuse...” David struggles to speak through the coughing fit that Aresia’s magic has induced.

“Oh— I don’t doubt that the goddesses gave you to Hippolyta. You see David, you were a _test_ … a test that the Amazons failed.” Aresia informs the Prince. “We were supposed to stand apart from Men’s World— we should have killed you, not welcomed you with open arms, not made you a _Prince!_ ”

Biting down on the urge to hiss in pain as she moves, the Dark Knight reaches into a pocket of her utility belt and pulls out what looks like a thick sharpie marker, although it has no brand name on the side and no markings on its white plastic case. Even if Wonder Man manages to fight through the illness and take down Aresia, there’s still a plane full of barrels of the rouge Amazon’s potion to deal with so, as Aresia continues to rant at Wonder Man, Batwoman quickly draws a symbol on the concrete floor of the hanger.

“Don’t you see?” Aresia hisses as she bashes Wonder Man’s head against the ground and turns towards Batwoman, whose actions are hidden by her cape. “I am not your enemy—it’s the _men!_ They must be destroyed!”

“And yet you— and every other Amazon— owes their life to one.” Batwoman hisses at the rebel Amazon as she finishes the symbol she is drawing and, while one hand is returning the marker to it’s pouch on her utility belt, the other wipes against her lips, smearing blood from where she’s bitten her tongue over the armor of her gloves. “Well, every other Amazon _except David_. Did you ever think about that? Did you ever think that, if what you’re doing was _right_ — then your _sisters_ would be fighting alongside you!”

“They will!” Aresia cries out, dropping David to the floor as she starts to move towards the Dark Knight, who presses her bloodied glove against the symbol on the ground. “The Amazons will rise!”

The Dark Knight presses her bloodied glove against the symbol on the ground and, with her other hand, throws a batarang at the rouge Amazon before diving to the side, drawing Aresia away from David and from the symbol that Batwoman had drawn on the floor and smeared with her blood.

“They must rise!” Aresia screams, catching another thrown batarang and crushing it in her fist. “The sins of men are too great!”

“ _You know nothing of sin._ ” The words come out in a hiss as smoke as dark as a moonless night begins to rise from the symbol which the Dark Knight had drawn upon the concrete floor. As the smoke reaches head height there is sort of metallic sound, almost like someone ripping a sheet of aluminum foil in two, followed by the sound of a high heeled shoe stepping on to the floor of the hanger.

“Who goes there?” Aresia hisses, seemingly forgetting the Dark Knight as she turns towards the smoke, which is slowly dissipating to reveal a tall, pale skinned woman wearing a black velvet men’s jacket over a plain white shirt and loose fitting black pants. The woman wears dark red leather high heels and has long red-brown hair, with a single streak of pure white in the very front, which is divided in two by her part, so that half is on the right and half is on the left.

“Someone who knows a lot more about sin then you do.” Batwoman replies with a smirk as she moves to tend to the Prince of Themyscira as Aresia glances between the two members of the Justice League and the red-haired woman.

“It matters not.” Aresia growls, dropping into a fighting stance. “All who stand before me shall fall— be their strength mundane or magical in nature!”

“Then it is a good thing that I am neither.” The red haired woman replies, throwing her arms out to her sides… and the next time she speaks her voice is deeper, with a strange echo to it that fills the hanger. **_“Gone! Gone! — the form of man — Rise, the Demon Etrigan!”_**

The red haired woman’s entire body darkens and it looks like she is made of smoke— the same jet black smoke which she had appeared in— and the smoke writhes, as if it is struggling to break free of the shape of her body. Then, with a roar that Batwoman can feel in her bones, the smoke surges outward, revealing that the woman has changed.

Now she stands a good foot or so taller and, where once there was pale human skin, she now has the scales of some reptile, which are the same yellow as bile. Her hair has gone entirely white and now resembles the pelt of some animal more than human hair. From beneath this matted jagged mane, on either side of the woman’s head, there emerge two thick, curling ram’s horns, which are the same yellow as the woman’s scale like skin. Her eyes are pools of black, with red oval pupils and as she breathes her mouth falls open slightly, revealing a maw of white needle like teeth set amid jet black gums.

The demonic woman wears what might have once been a dress, or perhaps a tunic of some kind, but is just a tattered length of fabric beneath a blue cape, which looks more like the skin of an animal. Her hands are like the claws of some monster in a child’s drawing, with no clear point where finger ends and nail begins, while her legs resemble the back legs of a dog— with a knee that juts backwards and an elongated foot which is more like a paw.

“Batwoman?” David manages to ask between coughs which shake his entire body. The Prince of the Amazons has one hand pressed to his forehead and is staring in confusion at the yellow skinned woman. As David and Batwoman watch the horned woman, with a wave of her hand and some muttered words in a language that has too many consonants and not enough vowels, summons tendrils of smoke, which wrap around Aresia, dragging her to the ground before turning into chains which, as much as Aresia struggles, she cannot break free from.

“I called in a favor.” Batwoman explains before she turns back towards the yellow skinned woman. “Etrigan! The barrels on the plane— the stuff inside is what’s infecting the men in Star City.”

“Etrigan” nods slowly and the red pupils of her eyes seeming to burn like a fire as her head tilts to one side, the movement making her neck seem abnormally long and strangely jointed.

**_“Blood will quench this burning fire, the Amazon shall not gain her heart’s desire.”_** Etrigan remarks, raising her right hand so that her palm is extended towards the plane. As she clenches her hand into a fist there is another metallic ripping sound, the same sound which had heralded her arrival in the hanger. **_“Before the rising of the sun, this rouge’s reign will be undone.”_**

“Thank you.” Batwoman bows to Etrigan before turning back to help Wonder Man to stand. The Prince of the Amazons is still obviously being affected by Aresia’s potion and has to lean heavily on the Dark Knight in order to stand at all. “Etrigan’s dealt with Aresia little stockpile and Medea will help Zatanna and the other members of the Justice League with creating an antidote.”

“Etrigan?” David mutters as Batwoman helps him walk over to where Aresia lies, bound and gagged by chains which have a strange shimmer to their metal links. “Medea?”

“Medea Blood was the assistant to a magician… long ago and far away from here.” Batwoman explains as she helps Wonder Man sit down beside Aresia before moving to attach a Justice League beacon to the rouge Amazon and Tsukuri, which will allow the Watchtower to beam the two women up and directly into appropriately reinforced cells. “He bound the demon Etrigan to her… and in the long round it’s worked out better for the two of them then it did for that magician.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“So what are we going to do with her?”

The Dark Knight is, once again, standing in the conference room on the Watchtower, opposite Green Arrow and Zatanna. Both Tsukuri and Aresia are locked up in a cell a few floors down and Wonder Man is sitting in a chair beside Zatanna, still looking a little green around the gills but obviously benefiting from the antidote which Medea Blood has helped the Justice League’s magicians whip up.

“My mother’s magicians are preparing a spell to remove Aresia’s Amazonian strength.” Wonder Man informs Zatanna. “After that we shall turn her over to Men’s World so that justice may be done.”

“The Justice League is forwarding all the information we’ve gathered to the proper authorities.” Green Arrow notes. “Star City will definitely charge her for attempted murder— and possibly murder. It looks like most of Aresia’s victims should pull through, but there are a few that are touch and go— mostly people with pre-existing medical conditions that made them more susceptible to this thing.”

“And what does Aresia think of all this?” Zatanna asks.

“She hasn’t said anything since Etrigan helped deliver her to the Watchtower.” Wonder Man sighs as the door to the conference room opens and Medea Blood steps inside. “Are the others responding to the antidote?”

“Yes, they should be fully recovered soon.” Medea informs the Prince of the Amazons before she moves to stand beside Batwoman. “In addition to thanks for my efforts, I have received an offer to join the Justice League.”

“And have you accepted that offer?” Batwoman asks, looking at the occult expert out of the corner of her eyes.

“Yes.” Medea replies with a slow nod of her head. “This rouge Amazon has made it clear that the League could benefit from our assistance. Besides, if one who trusts so hesitantly as you trusts these heroes, then shouldn’t we?”

“Fair point.” Batwoman smirks, before turning towards David, who is staring off into space with a forlorn look upon his face. “David— this isn’t your fault.”

“I know, it’s just…” The Prince of the Amazons sighs. “I wish that Aresia could have seen Man’s World as I have. Perhaps then she would understand that, for all their faults, there is nobility to be found here.”

Before Batwoman can respond to David’s words, the doors of the conference room open once more, this time to admit Green Lantern and the Flash. Before the two can even say a word in greeting to the other members of the League David is on her feet sweeping the Scarlet Speedster up in what looks like a bone crushing hug. The faintest smile appears on the Dark Knight’s face… only to vanish the second that Superman steps through the doors to the conference room.

Batwoman had made a point of _not_ seeing Clark Kent when he was in the Justice League’s medical unit— not in persona and not via any sort of security feed or even looking at the images in the file that the League’s doctors had created. However, thanks to Wonder Man, Batwoman had been given an up close and personal look at just what Aresia’s poison did to those it infected… so it is all too easy for the Dark Knight to look at a very healthy Man of Steel and imagine him lying in a hospital bed, suffering from the rouge Amazon’s magic. She doesn’t even have to close her eyes to picture Clark struggling to breath and _dying_ and…

**_Fuck. This. Shit._ **

Batwoman pulls herself out of her thoughts and, with a perfectly blank face, she stalks over to the big Kryptonian idiot, who actually has the nerve to _smile_ at her after he almost died and when all the other heroes in the room (even Medea Blood) have the good sense to back away from the Dark Knight. As Batwoman crosses the short distance between the two of them, she reaches into a pocket of her utility belt— the action hidden by her cape— and just as Clark Kent opens his mouth to speak the Dark Knigth squares her hips and punches the Man of Steel right in his big _stupid_ face.

Clark reels back from the blow— partially due to shock but mostly thanks to the tiny sliver of kryptonite clenched in Batwoman’s fist— and every other hero in the room takes either a shocked step back or a shocked step forward, no one seeming to know if they should put themselves between the two or get the hell away from them. Before anyone gathers enough of their wits to actually make a move towards or away from the pair, the Dark Knight slips the kryptonite back into the lead lined pouch on her utility belt and stares up at the shell-shocked Kryptonian.

“Batwoman?” Clark asks, one hand rising to touch his cheek in confusion.

“Idiot.” The Dark Knight huffs, before she reaches out to grab a fistful of the Man of Steel’s costume— right over the red and yellow “S”— and uses that handhold to pull Clark Kent down for that kiss that she had been denied so many hours ago in the gardens outside Wayne Manor.


	45. Omnia Mea Mecum Porto

**_Omnia Mea Mecum Porto = Latin for “All That Is Mine, I Carry With Me”_ **

When Gotham’s Dark Knight _punches_ the Last Son of Krypton nearly everyone in the room— including Superman— freezes with neigh identical looks of shock on their faces. The only exceptions to this general shock are Medea Blood— who seems relatively unaffected by the Dark Knight’s actions, registering only mild surprise via a raising of one eyebrow— and the Dark Knight herself, who seems rather pleased with herself as she slips her kryptonite shard back into the lead lined pouch on her utility belt.

“Batwoman?” Clark asks, one had rising to his now bruised cheek as he stares down at the shorter hero in confusion.

“Idiot.” The Dark Knight huffs, though there is a sort of weary fondness clear in her usually stern voice. The Man of Steel opens his mouth, as if to say something in response, only to be cut off by Batwoman grabbing a fistful of Superman’s costume, pulling him down and pressing her lips against his is what looks like a punishing kiss.

The slightest bit of a smirk appears on Medea Blood’s face, Wonder Man’s eyes go as wide a saucers and the mouths of pretty much every other hero in the room falls open, with only Zatanna Zatara bothering to cover her mouth with a hand as the shocked “o” of her lips start twisting into a surprised smile.

As suddenly as it had started the kiss ends, with Batwoman releasing her grip on Superman’s costume and, as the entire room still stands shocked (or in Medea Blood’s case, amused) the Dark Knight— rather calmly— walks past the Man of Steel and out of the room towards the Watchtower’s telporter. As the door closes behind her Superman— who looks like something has hit him upside the head with a mallet made of kryptonite— slowly reaches up to press his fingers against his lips, before turning around so fast that the Flash is sure he actually flew a little and rushing off after Batwoman… even though the Watchtower has registered that the Dark Knight has already teleported away.

Mere moments before Clark Kent teleports down to Gotham he hears the Flash break the shocked silence in the room with a remark about how he had “totally called that” and therefore had won a bet of some kind, which prompted a sigh from Wonder Man and Green Arrow’s disagreement. On a normal day Superman would be scolding Flash for betting on/against his teammates— after all, no one wanted a repeat of the Lemon Incident— but right now the Last Son of Krypton has more important things on his mind.

Although Clark had set the teleporter to deposit him at the same coordinates that Batwoman had beamed down to, Superman is not surprised to find himself alone on a rooftop in downtown Gotham, just a few blocks away from Police Headquarters. Batwoman has, after all, proved that she has no difficulty hacking int the other systems on the Watchtower and, given the fact that it looked like Robin would be involving himself with the Justice League more often, it makes sense that the Dark Knight would hack the League’s teleporter system in some way.

So the moment that Clark determines that Rachel Wayne is not on the rooftop or in the immediate area, he heads towards Wayne Manor and the Cave which lies beneath it… where he finds Rachel Wayne, still clad in her suit and cape but with her cowl lying on the ground beside her. The Dark Knight looks as if she has collapsed into the desk chair which sits in front of the Cave’s massive computer and she has her head in her hands, while her hair— which is still slightly damp from being inside the cowl for the duration of the League’s mission against Aresia— looks as if she’s run her hands through it at least once.

On his way across Gotham and into the Cave itself, Clark had flown so fast that— while he hadn’t gone fast enough to create a sonic boom— the intruder alarms which Batwoman has in place around her home and her base of operations only go off as the Last Man of Steel’s feet touch down on the stone floor, starling the bats high above the two heroes. Batwoman’s hand darts out to punch some combination on a keyboard which silences the alarms and after taking a deep breath she slowly straightens up and looks a Superman, her face half hidden behind her hair. Despite this and the darkness of the Cave— the overhead lights haven’t been turned on, leaving the two heroes illuminated by only the soft glow of the computer screens behind Batwoman— Clark Kent can tell that there are tears upon Rachel Wayne’s face.

“Rachel?” Clark finds himself all but whispering as he slowly, hesitantly, takes a step towards the Dark Knight.

“Clark I’m… I’m sorry.” The usually confident woman stutters, pulling herself back from the Man of Steel as she tries to look anywhere other than at Clark. “I— I saw the effect of Aresia’s poison on Wonder Man and I— I must have misjudged the situation.”

For a second Clark has no idea what the Dark Knight is talking about, but then it hits him— he hadn’t responded. When Batwoman kissed him on the Watchtower he’d just stood there like an idiot— he hadn’t even closed his eyes for Rao’s sake! He’d just stood there like an idiot, like he hadn’t _wanted_ to be kissed, like he hadn’t _tried_ to kiss Rachel not twenty-four hours ago, out in the gardens of Wayne Manor.

“No.” Clark replies, a soft smile growing on his face. “No you didn’t.”

The Dark Knight stares at the Last Son of Krypton, her eyes wide as saucers as she struggles to stand and takes a hesitant step towards him— only for Clark to meet her halfway, wrapping his arms around Batwoman’s waist and her hands wrap around his shoulders and the Kryptonian presses his lips against her’s. A shiver runs through the Dark Knight’s body as the two slowly sink to the ground, completely lost in the kiss. When the kiss ends the two heroes find themselves on the ground, with Batwoman all but sitting in Superman’s lap. Rachel makes no move to separate herself from Clark, instead she all but sags against the Man of Steel, even going so far as to rest her head against his shoulder.

Both heroes have clearly been affected by this second kiss— Batwoman more obviously then Superman. While Clark’s breathing is, technically, labored for a Kryptonian on Earth, the Dark Knight’s breathing is clearly labored and her entire body is shivering, as if she’d stepped outside the Fortress of Solitude and into the fury of an Arctic winter storm.

“Do you… do you really want this?” Batwoman asks, her voice little more than a whisper as one of her hands fits the material of Clark’s outfit, just as she had when pulling him into a kiss earlier.

“Yes.” Clark replies, reaching up to rest her own hand over Rachel’s. “more then anything… do you?”

“Yes.” Rachel nods, without lifting her head from where it rests on Clark’s shoulder, with her left ear pressed against the space right below where his cape is attached to his right shoulder.

“Then why…” Clark trails off as she moves his hand to wipe at the tears which have started flowing down Rachel’s face before wrapping around the Dark Knight’s still quaking shoulders.

“My…” Batwoman pauses for a second to regain control of her breathing. “My last relationship— my _first_ relationship— _really_ didn’t end well.”

Clark remains silent as Rachel Wayne closes her eyes, obviously fighting back tears as she releases her grip on Clark in order to press her hands to her face and stifles a sob before taking several deep breaths and slowly allowing her hands to drop. As she opens her mouth to speak the Last Son of Krypton cuts her off.

“Rachel, you don’t need to tell me.”

“No— I do.” The Dark Knight sighs. “I nee— _you_ need to know about Henri.”

“Henri?”

“Henri Ducard.”

“Wait… isn’t that the man who lead the ninjas who attacked the Watchtower? The one you met in a Chinese prison?”

“Yes. I ran way from Gotham when I was seventeen years old… and I didn’t stop running for three years. Three years living among the criminals, among thieves and murders. I can still remember the first time I stole so that I wouldn’t _starve_ , but in all that time— all those nights when I almost forgot who I was— I _never_ became one of them. I was never…” Rachel trails off, breathing heavily for a moment as she once again scrubs at her face with her hands. “I wanted to understand them, so I became a thief. I was in China when a job went wrong. We were supposed to steal Wayne Enterprise tech and the police must have known ahead of time, cause they were waiting for us in the warehouse. When I wouldn’t tell them my name they slapped me so hard I saw stars. They didn’t care that I was a woman, or a foreigner, they just saw me as scum that wouldn’t be missed…

“So— without anything even resembling a trail or even any real effort to find out who I was— they threw me in a dark little cesspit prison in the middle of nowhere. Men and women, young and old, healthy and half-dead from illness, all crammed in on top of each other and I was the fresh meat that everybody wanted a piece of. I wasn’t as good of a fighter then— I relied more on my anger then anything— but I took them on. One by one at first, but then they started getting smarter, attacked me in larger and larger groups. One day six men jumped me in the line for breakfast. I won and the prison guards locked me up in solitary— for my attackers’ protection.

“I was expecting the guards to come in and…. Or maybe for them send in some prisoners first to wear me down. But it wasn’t a guard, or a prisoner who came to me in that cell… it was Henri. He asked me if I was so desperate to fight criminals that I’d locked myself away to take then on one at a time and when I sad that there were _seven_ of them… he didn’t laugh, not really—but his reaction was something like laugher when he said ‘I counted six Miss Wayne.’

“Clark— even _Alfred_ wouldn’t have recognized me at that point. I’d been declared legally dead the previous year! If I’d show up on the doorstep of Wayne Manor they would have thought I was just some street woman… but Henri knew who I was. He said… he said that the world was ‘too small’ for someone like me to disappear— no matter how deep I chose to sink. Then he told me— he told me that Ra’s Al Ghul could guide me on the path of one who hates evil and wishes to serve true justice. All I needed to do was find a blue flower on the slope of a mountain and carry it to the top.”

“But you were locked up in solitary?” Clark asks.

“Henri said I would be released the next day… lo and behold, I was. The guards tossed me into an old army truck and tossed me out even further into the middle of nowhere… I found the flower Henri had told me about, I carried it up the mountain and I joined the League of Shadows as Henri’s student… at the time I thought he was Ra’s Al Ghul’s right hand man—“

“ _Thought_?” Clark interrupts Rachel.

“I’ll explain, just— just listen?” Rachel pauses long enough for Clark to nod in agreement before she continues her story. “Ra’s Al Ghul took no students of his own, so it was a big deal that, immediately upon my becoming a student at Ghul’s monastery, I was apprenticed to Henri. There were students who had been trying for _years_ to prove themselves worthy to learn directly from him... one of those students actually tried to kill me because she thought I’d ‘stolen’ the position from her. She poisoned my food— I was unconscious for three days and bedridden for _weeks_ … Henri took care of me for that entire time, practically waited on me hand and foot until I had recovered.”

“You fell in love with him, didn’t you?” Superman realizes.

“Yes…” Rachel whispers. “By the time I was ready for my final test— to see if I was ready to stop being a student and become a member of the League of Shadows— we were all but engaged.” Rachel’s eyes close for a second. “Henri was going to travel down the mountain a week after my test was scheduled to take place… he said that he would return with an engagement ring. But then my test came… I passed, but I learned the truth about the League of Shadows.”

“The truth?” Clark asks.

“The League believed that Gotham was nothing more than a breeding ground for suffering and injustice— that it was beyond saving and had to die. They had a farmer, one who had killed his neighbor— they wanted me to kill him, to prove that I was ready to lead the League to Gotham and destroy it.”

“You refused.” It’s not a question. While Rachel’s story demonstrates that Clark doesn’t know _everything_ about the Dark Knight, he knows enough to be one hundred percent sure that Rachel would never agree to harm Gotham— not even as a ruse or as part of some plan to save her home.

“Of course— Henri and the League fought me, I set off a stash of gunpowder and burned the Monastery to the ground. Ra’s Al Ghul died and Henri was knocked unconscious. Despite everything I still loved him, so I carried Henri to safety in a nearby village. Then I went down the mountain, came back to Gotham and… well became Batwoman. The second time I went out in uniform I encountered one of the League’s Gotham allies… Doctor Jonathan Crane.”

“The Scarecrow?” Superman asks, receiving a nod from Batwoman.

“The League had given him that blue flower that Henri had told me to carry to the top of the mountain… it had hallucinogenic properties, which the League used when testing new members. Crane took that flower and weaponized it, turning it into his ‘fear toxin’— an aerosol which causes anyone exposed to it to see their worst fears and be effectively scared to death. The first time I confronted Crane he managed to spray me with it… Alfred got me home safely and Mr. Fox created an antidote. I was out for two days and when I woke up—” Batwoman’s voice trembles as a broken whimper slips past her lips. “I learned that… that I’d been pregnant with Henri’s child and thanks to Crane’s toxin I’d lost that child.”

“Oh Rachel…” Clark’s arms tighten around Rachel. “Wait… that was your birthday— wasn’t it? The one where you kicked everyone out of Wayne Manor?”

“Yes.” The Dark Knight nods. “I kicked everyone out because of the League of Shadows— Gotham’s rich and powerful were all there, so they could be killed in one swoop. I learned the League was there when one of my guests insisted that I needed to meet ‘Mr. Razzall Gool’.”

“But I thought you said that he’d died when the monastery burned down?”

“I _thought_ he had… but it turned out the Ra’s Al Ghul I’d known during my time at the monastery was just a decoy. When I turned around to see the man my guest wanted me to meet, I found out that the real Ra’s Al Ghul was the man I knew as Henri Ducard. That… that broke me and when I told Henri what had happened— what we _lost_ — I think it broke him too, just not as badly. He decided to spare me, Alfred and the Manor, so he left a few members of the League to watch us and then went into Gotham to finish what he’d started.”

“That was the incident in the Narrows right?” Clark asks, struggling to remember everything he knows of Batwoman’s first few weeks as a hero.

“Yes— Alfred and I dealt with the League members in the Manor, I put on the cowl and stopped Henri from destroying Gotham. Ever since then he— he believes that, since he is responsible for the toxin which caused me to miscarry, he owes me a debt… a debt which, according to him, he can never repay. So now Henri and the League of Shadows… they still do all sort of illegal and immoral things, but never anywhere near Gotham and never anything that could possible involve me. Now the only time that a member of the League comes to Gotham it’s to… well keep an eye me.”

Silence falls between the Last Son of Krypton and the Dark Knight, who turns away from Clark, tilting her head forward so that her hair falls around her face. For a long moment all that Superman can hear is he sound of the bats far above them and the underground stream below… then Rachel extricates herself from Clark’s arms and stands before moving over to the edge of the metal deck which the two are on and leaning on the safety rail which overlooks the lower area where the Tumbler and Batpod are parked.

“So now… now this is your chance to walk— or fly— out of here without me thinking any less of you.” Batwoman informs Superman, who stood up shortly after she did but has made no move to approach her. “Hell, I’d probably think _more_ of you… who the hell wants someone with my kind of baggage?”

“Oh I don’t know… how about the Last Son of Krypton?” Clark asks as he moves to stand at Rachel’s side and gently places his left hand on top of her right hand as the Billionaire’s head turns so that she is looking at him. “I think I’m strong enough to help you carry that baggage… if you’ll let me.”

“Okay.” For a second Clark isn’t sure if he actually heard Rachel speak or if he’d just imagined a response from the Dark Knight… but then Batwoman leans against his side and— instead of his hand simply resting on top of her’s on top of the safety rail— Rachel and Clark hands are now clasped and being held between them. “You help me carry my baggage and I’ll help you carry your’s.”

“Then… then this can’t just be something that only affects this part of our lives.” Clark whispers, gesturing with his free hand to their uniforms— both his bright spandex like blue and red outfit and her dark grey and black somber body armor. “I don’t know how—”

“Move to Gotham.” Rachel replies, cutting him off. “ _The Gazette_ ’s had an opening for ages… and as long as Superman keeps Metropolis as his base of operations—”

“No one will realize that he’s moved to Gotham.” Clark finds himself smiling. “You sure _The Gazette_ will hire me?”

“You’re a hell of a reporter— and you’ve got a record of getting _good_ interviews out of Rachel Wayne.” Rachel smiles. “They should jump at the chance to hire you... especially if I’m seen taking you out to dinner shortly before they get your application.”

“… it’s almost scary the way you think.” Clark admits as he turns towards Rachel and brings her hand up so he can kiss it, as if he is a knight and the Dark Knight is a Princess. “I guess I better get back to Metropolis and start filling out that application.”

“Get your best suit dry-cleaned— I’ll find a reason to swing by Metropolis in a few days.” Rachel replies, droping Clark’s hand and leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to the Kryptonian’s lips. “Good night Clark.”

“Good night Rachel.”


	46. De Nobis Fabula Narratur

_De Nobis Fabula Narratur = Latin for “About Us Is The Story Told”_

For the first time in years Clark Kent wakes up floating with his cheek pressed against the ceiling and the lamp above his bed pressing against his side. Clark hasn’t floated in his sleep since his teenage years— when his powers were still developing and when he’d still been struggling to control those powers— so when he realizes where he is the last son of Krypton is so startled that he just drops, landing with a jolt on the mattress below. Despite this rather rude awakening Clark actually finds himself smirking as he climbs out of bed and starts his usual morning routine… well his usually morning routine interspersed with reading all the messages he’s receiving from members of the Justice League.

The first message had actually arrived the previous night, from the members of the League who had been present for his and Batwoman’s… _confrontation_. All of those messages had been variations on the theme of “OH GOD ARE YOU ALIVE?” and Clark had responded to them en masse with a picture of him pointing to the latest breaking news on _The Daily Planet’s_ website.

The messages which were arriving now were more varied and mostly they were coming from members of the Justice League who hadn’t been present for their… “confrontation”. Most of them were asking if the rumors they were hearing were true, though a few went on to ask _why_ and one or two even had the guts to ask what had happened afterward.

Before Clark can figure out how to reply to those messages, his computer alerts him that a message from Batwoman has arrived in his mailbox— a message which she has apparently been sent to every member of the League— which informs the members of the League of the events of the previous night (in a very generalized manner) and very firmly discouraging anyone from bothering her or Superman about said events… so firmly in fact that Clark finds himself hitting “reply all” and adding a quick note about how he’s okay and that he has “worked things out” with the Dark Knight.

Before Clark can start second guessing himself or rewriting his addition to Batwoman’s note he hits “send” and— after a brief detour to stop a runaway city bus before it can hit a group of school kids at a crosswalk— heads off to the Daily Planet, where everyone is frantically trying to make sense of Aresia’s attack on Star City.

So, while Lois Lane contacts everyone she can get through to in Star City, Clark rings up the Justice League’s public relations department (Ollie’s idea) and punches in the extension that will put him through to an empty line, so that Clark can pretend to ask questions whose answers he already knows (that had been Flash’s idea. After all Clark wasn’t the only hero whose public life tended to run into the League’s activities.)

_The Daily Planet_ ends up running a special edition the Amazon’s attack, with pretty much every reporter getting their own piece— although Clark and Lois end up writing the headline article, which is underneath a picture of Superman fighting Aresia. The special edition ends up consuming the first half of the work day, while putting together tomorrow’s paper takes up the rest… so Clark Kent finds himself walking out of the Daily Planet at roughly the same time as about half of the paper’s employees— including Lois. Clark is only half listening to his partner— who is apparently trying to organize some sort of mass exodus of their coworkers to a nearby restaurant for dinner. Instead he’s focused on the updates and revision he needs to make to his resume so that he’ll be ready to apply for a job at _The Gotham Gazette_ the moment Rachel makes her move.

“Clark!” Lois all but shouts in his ear as she grabs his shoulder, snapping the Man of Steel back to reality. Clark, Lois and several other reporters from the Planet are standing on the curb, waiting for the light to turn green so that they can cross the street. “Which sounds better, Chinese or Italian?”

“Oh, I don’t know Lois…” Clark shrugs as he tries to think up some excuse that will get him out of going to what would undoubtedly end up being an extremely awkward dinner spent talking about Superman and the Justice League with his coworkers. However, before he can actually give Lois any sort of excuse, the Last Son of Krypton is cut off by the arrival of a jet black Lamborghini Murcielago convertible, which rolls to a stop at the red light right in front of the group of Daily Planet employees. As someone in the crowd whistles at the expensive car, the sun roof rolls back… revealing that the person sitting behind the wheel is none other than Rachel Antonietta Wayne.

“Hey do any of you know where the nearest barn is? I’m here to pick up a farm boy.” Rachel smirks as peers over the top of her sunglasses, briefly scanning the huddle of reporters before zeroing in on Clark. As her eyes meet his Rachel’s smirk slowly transforms into a blinding smile. “Hello Clark— want an exclusive?”

“On what?” Clark asks, managing to turn his laughter over his coworkers’ confusion into more of a shocked sputter as he steps away from his fellow _Daily Planet_ and towards the expensive car and it’s Billionaire owner.

“Oh, I’m sure we can think of something—say over dinner at Empirica?” Rachel replies as she presses a button on her left and the passenger rises vertically instead of opening like a normal car door. After mock-hesitating for a second Clark sits down in the Lamborghini and turns back towards his coworkers—who seem incapable of doing anything other than staring at him in shock.

“Clark?” Lois finally manages to sputter out his name as the passenger side door closes and she glances back and forth between her fellow reporter and the Gotham Billionaire. However, before Clark can say anything, the light turns green and Rachel takes off through Metropolis’ pre-dinner traffic.

“So… why’d you tell me to dry clean my suit if you weren’t going to give me a chance to wear it?” Clark Kent asks as he fumbles with his seat belt and shifts so that he can get a better look at Rachel Wayne.

The Dark Knight is wearing a dark red collared shirt, a silkily black vest with small silver buttons and black pants which flare out around her ankles. The top two buttons of her shirt are undone, allowing a glimpse of a multi-strand necklace of black pearls. Rachel’s hair and her earrings— black feathers on silver chains— are whipping around in the wind, making her look like a model in a car commercial.

“Well, last night I was under the impression that I’d be tied up in Wayne Enterprises business for the next few days— we’re in the process of acquiring a few small Gotham companies and a tech-start up in California— but people expect you to take time off work after you’re kidnapped by a supervillain, especially a _Gotham_ supervillain. So, rather than getting Lucius to just send my work to the Manor, I decided to give in to my impulsive side and take you out to dinner.”

“At Empirica… the three star restraint with a _four year_ waiting list?” Clark asks.

“Clark, one of the benefits of being a billionaire is that restaurants will _always_ have a table for you… usually the best one in the house.” The Dark King replies as she brings the car to a stop in from of Empirica’s valet parking.

Empirica is located in an exceptionally “trendy” section of Metropolis, tucked in-between a store where a pair of socks costs more than Clark makes in two years and a coffee shop / art gallery where a small cup and a tiny pastry costs more than what Clark usually spends on dinner. Across the street is a recently renovated theater, some sort of health spa/gym and a boutique hotel on top which Cat Grant had recently reviewed for the Planet.

“At least you look like you belong here…” Clark mutters as, after looking around at the well dressed men and woman and comparing his own slightly wrinkled work-suit to Rachel’s graceful appearance. “I’m a mess.”

“Maybe…” Rachel shrugs as she tosses the keys to her Lamborghini to the valet— who appears to be drooling at the thought of driving said car— before moving to Clark’s side and pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. “But at least you’re a _hot_ mess.”

Clark brushes a bright red as several passerbys— who have undoubtedly recognized the Gotham Billionaire— stare as Rachel all but wraps herself around Clark’s right arm and half pulls, half guides him into Empirica.

The restaurant is dimly lit and almost everything inside— the floor, ceiling, wall panels and the furniture— is made of dark wood, simply carved, with plain white cushions on the booths and chairs. The only light in the restaurant comes from Japanese style paper lanterns— there are small, rectangular ones which seem to have actual candles inside them placed in the center of each table and large round ones, which are obviously electric, hang from the ceiling gin scattered clusters.

The restaurant is divided in half by a large piece of frosted glass, framed by dark metal, which has water running down both sides to the pebbles at it’s base. While the restaurant isn’t very large, the tables and booths that Clark can see are relatively far apart— enough that while everyone in the restaurant can probably see everyone else in the place, the diners are still afforded some measure of privacy. The maître d’s stand— which is also made of dark wood and has it’s own small paper lantern— is only a few steps away from the front door.

“Do you have a reservation?” The maître d— a man dressed in a perfectly pressed tuxedo with a shiny black tie help in place by a silver tie clip— asks without looking up from his reservation book.

“No.” Rachel replies and the maître d draws in a deep breath— obviously preparing himself to go into a oft-repeated speech about how Empirica ‘requires a reservation in advance’— only to freeze as he looks up and instantly recognizes the Wayne Heiress.

“Miss Wayne! A thousand pardons, allow me a second to ensure your table is ready.” The man stammers before scurrying off through the restaurant and into what Clark assumes is the kitchen.

“Always a table waiting …” Clark mutters, trying to ignore the fact that he can feel the stares of Empirica’s customers and the wait staff, who attention had been drawn by the maître d all but squawking out Rachel’s last name. “I’m never going to get used to this, am I?”

“I’m not exactly the most qualified person to answer _that_ question.” Rachel replies as the maître d hurries back and— after bowing what feels like a half dozen times as he apologizes for the wait— guides the Billionaire and the reporter through the restaurant and into the kitchen, to what Clark assumes is the chef’s table. Empirica’s chef’s table is a small booth made of dark wood, covered in black cushions and just big enough for three or four people to sit together at an intimate squeeze. The booth is tucked away in a sort of alcove to the right of the long, flat table where the wait staff hands over the orders and the cooks place the dishes. The way the booth is positioned allows anyone sitting there to see the entirety of the bustling kitchen without having to turn their head at all.

Rachel release her grip on Clark’s arm so that the two of them can slide into the booth and— when she seems to hesitate for a second over whether or not she should leave space between the two of them— Clark scoots ever so slightly over so that his left side is gently pressing against her right and places his left hand over Rachel’s right hand (which is resting on her knee) before squeezing gently. This draws a small but genuine smile from the Dark Knight as the maître d places two menus covered in black leather and a matching wine list in front of the two of them.

Leaving Rachel to pursue the wine list, Clark starts slowly looking through Empirica’s menu. While Clark may not know all that much about fine dining— what he did know was probably due to listening to and editing the work of Cat Grant and other reporters for the Arts & Leisure section of the Planet— the menu seems a lot more European then he would have guessed, given the vaguely oriental design of Empirica’s dining room. Every dish seems to have at least one ingredient in it’s description that Clark has never heard of before, there’s at least three dishes that he doesn’t have any idea how to pronounce and— while he can see that the wine list Rachel is looking at has prices listed— there are absolutely no prices listed in the actual menu.

As Clark struggles through deciphering the menu he is vaguely aware of Rachel all but interrogating the maître d about the different Rosé wines which Empirica has to offer before settling on a bottle of “Château d’Esclans’ Garrus”, which the maître d heads off to get, leaving the two alone in their corner of the kitchen.

“Lost?” Rachel asks as she leans against Clark so that she can look at the menu in his hands instead of opening up her own.

“Extremely.” Clark admits with a sigh.

“Let me guess… you’re the sort of guy who has a ‘usual’ at every restaurant he goes to and _always_ orders that, even when you tell yourself that ‘this time’ you’ll try something different?” Rachel asks as she reaches over to turn the pages of Clark’s menu. “Dick does that— we don’t’ go out to eat too often, but he does that.”

“I’m a little more inventive when I cook for myself.” Clark replies as Rachel’s eyes rapidly scan over the menu’s pages. Despite the fact that there in the middle of a bustling kitchen, the Last Son of Krypton feels strangely comfortable— from time to time one of the wait or kitchen staff will glance over at the two of them, but for the most part everyone else is too busy to pay that much attention to the Billionaire and her mystery date. (Clark is reasonably sure that no has recognized him. Maybe his name would ring a bell for some of them, but not his face.)

“We’ll I’ve heard amazing things about their seafood…” Rachel muses, tilting her head to one side as she speaks.

“So that’s why you picked a Rosé wine?” Clark asks, smiling at the look of surprise which appears on the Billionaire’s face at his question. “There was a piece about wine pairings in the Planet a few weeks ago— I ended up reading it while on moniter duty.”

“Yes, though Rosé goes well with most ‘warm-climate’ cuisines— and most of the non-seafood here is inspired by Provencal cuisine.” Rachel explains, gesturing to several items on the menu, most of which have “Provence” or “Provencal” in their name or description. “So if I hadn’t show up what would you have had for dinner tonight?”

“Um… leftovers? I was going to edit and possibly rewrite my resume, so I would have probably just reheated whatever I have in my fridge.” Clark admits before he hands the menu over to the Billionaire. “Here, why don’t you just order for me?”

Before Rachel can say anything the maître d returns, with their bottle of wine and two glasses in his hands. He places the glasses in front of them with an artful flourish before holding out the bottle for Rachel’s inspection. When Rachel nods in approval the bottle is opened and the cork offered to Rachel as the maître d pours a small amount into the glass in front of the Billionaire. After she quickly tastes it and makes some vague approving noise the maître d fills both glasses and places the bottle on the table just to Clark’s right, with the label pointed towards the two of them. While Clark takes a small sip from his glass Rachel orders— braised stuffed morels for them to share as an appetizer, an entrée of lobster ravioli with langoustine for her, something French sounding called “bouillabiase” for Clark’s entrée and a tarte Tatin of apples with Tahitian vanilla ice cream for dessert.

As the maître d takes their menus and head over to hand the order over to the chefs and kitchen staff, Clark turns towards Rachel as the Dark Knight takes a slow sip of her wine, absentmindedly swirling the rest around in her cup as she looks over at the hustle and bustle of the kitchen.

“Boilabase?” Clark asks, tripping over the word despite hearing it’s correct pronunciation not five second ago

“Boo-ya-bes.” Rachel gently corrects the Man of Steel’s pronunciation as she slowly places her wine glass back on the table but does not let go of the stem of the glass. “It’s a fish stew with garlic and fennel, originally from Marseille— a port city in the south of France. It was originally made by local fishermen from the bony rockfish they caught but couldn’t sell. Bouillabiase traditionally has vegetables, shellfish, at least three kinds of fish and is served with grilled bread topped with a type of mayonnaise called rouille. I believe that Empirica also adds octopus and langoustine to their bouillabiase also has octopus and langoustine.”

“So why’d you choose...” Clark hesitates for a second to ensure he pronounces the dish right this time. “Bouillabaisse for me?”

“Because I couldn’t decide between the ravioli and the bouillabaisse.” Rachel admits. “So I am shamelessly using you to escape having to make that decision.”

“Glad to be of assistance.” Clark laughs. “And the morels?”

“Same reason I chose the tarte Tatin for desert— I read a review which insisted those two dishes ‘simply must be sampled to be believed’. Although I’ll admit the idea of serving a farm boy a dish supposedly inspired by apple pie amused me.”

“The tarte Tatin?” Clark asks.

“An upside down pastry supposedly invented when an overworked chef— by the name of Tatin— forgot to put a pie crust in before the apple filling.” The Dark Knight replies.

“No offense, but you know more about cooking then I’d have assumed.” Clark admits. “Given— you know…”

“The whole Billionaire thing?” Rachel smiles. “It’s all thanks to Alfred. After my parents died a lot of the manor staff… either didn’t want to keep working or weren’t needed since it was just Alfred and me. So Alfred cooked pretty much every meal and most of the time he got me to help— turned me into quite the foodie, until…”

“Until you ran away.” Clark whispers, glancing around to make sure they can’t be overheard before he continues. “You said you stole so that you didn’t starve...”

“Mostly from farmer’s markets— or street vendors.” Rachel replies with a shrug. “I ate out of garbage cans more often then I stole… by the time I came back to Gotham I’d gotten to the point where I didn’t really taste what I was eating. I’ll admit I’m still working on that.”

“Working on it?” Clark inquires, only to be interrupted by the arrival of their appetizer— braised morels stuffed with smoked duck. There are four morels, simply arranged on a rectangular plate and drizzled with a light brown sauce. Rachel thanks the waiter, who glances between the two of them before leaving them to enjoy the honeycomb like mushrooms.

“I taste things now.” Rachel informs him as she cuts a morel in half, brings it to her mouth and slowly chews on it. “Unfortunately when I started tasting things I— if that thing tastes like the meal I had that was poisoned…”

“You have a flashback.” Clark realizes.

“Yes. I panic and I have trouble breathing.” Rachel shifts slightly, so that her hair falls around her face, allowing her to hide behind it as she speaks. “It was rice with lard, soy sauce and some dried fish on the side… so I don’t eat a lot of Asian food now. I don’t think Alfred even keeps rice in the Manor anymore.”

“Luckily I’m not a fan of rice… or dried fish.” Clark shrugs before taking a bite of the morels and washing them down with a sip of water the waiter had brought over with the mushroom dish. “Always preferred noodles.”

Through Rachel’s hair he can just see a smile appear on the Billionaire’s face as she giggles ever so slightly, one hand raising to cover her mouth as the other pushes her hair behind her right ear and she turns towards Clark.

“You are unbelievable.” Rachel smiles and Clark finds it so refreshing to see a _real_ smile on Rachel’s face, as opposed to the hollow, fake smile that Clark has seen her wear in so many pictures and when she’d come to Metropolis to see Lex’s progress on the WayneLex T7. “Seriously, you’re just so… so…”

“Is the great Rachel Wayne lost for words?” Clark asks with a smirk.

“I’m more accustomed to describing the darker extremes of human behavior.” The Dark Knight replies, pushing the last morel on the plate towards the Man of Steel, who replies by cutting it in half, claiming one piece for himself and pushing the other back over to Rachel’s side of the plate. “The Sami languages of Norway, Sweden and Finland have something like 300 words for different types of snow… I probably have at least that many words for the different types of crazy I encounter in Gotham.”

“And thanks to you Gotham has another word for hero.” Clark adds, causing Rachel’s eyes to soften slightly in confusion. “Batwoman.”

Rachel blushes, clearly unused to hearing people speak favorably about her night life— while Gotham may be thankful for their caped crusader, it’s obvious to Clark that it’s citizens don’t demonstrate their appreciation like the citizen of Metropolis demonstrate their appreciation for Superman. Rachel is undoubtedly more accustomed to hearing backhanded compliments, with people claiming that a “real hero” wouldn’t need to wear a mask or vanish when the cops show up.

Two waiters approach the chef’s table, one to clear away the now empty appetizer plate and one carrying their main courses. Rachel’s comes on a sort of rounded triangular shaped plate, with five decently sized circular ravioli— obviously handmade—topped with a creamy white sauce and small chunks of lobster and langoustine. Clark’s bouillabaisse— which ends up being a light red soup practically overflowing with seafood and fish— comes in a flared square bowl, alongside a small circular plate for the toasted slices of baguette topped with rouille.

As the waiters depart Clark takes his first sip of his bouillabaisse and unconsciously lets out a pleased hum. The broth of the soup is thin and smooth, with just enough spice that Clark imagines it would be perfect for a cold day, the fish and seafood are delicious and, when he takes a bite of the bread with the rouille spread, the crunch of the toasted bread is a pleasant compliment to smoothness of the soup.

“This is amazing.” Clark mutters, glancing over at Rachel who has cut one of her raviolis open and is clearly enjoying the bite she has just taken. “It’s… it’s like someone made a summer day into a soup.”

After a few more spoonfuls of his soup Clark pushes the bowl over towards Rachel, who slides her plate closer to Clark so that he can have some of her raviolis while she is trying his bouillabaisse.

“I haven’t had octopus in forever.” Rachel remarks as she hums in pleasure at the taste of the Provencal soup. “And the sauce on the ravioli is perfect— not too heavy that it overwhelms the ravioli, but not so bland that it adds nothing to the dish.”

“Much better then leftovers reheated in the microwave.” Clark laughs as he passes Rachel a slice of bread, which she dunks in the soup before eating. “I’m even enjoying the wine.”

“As Alfred told you the other day— even if the alcohol doesn’t affect you, it enhances the flavor of the food.” Rachel replies, pausing to take a sip of said wine. “To tell the truth I’m a little envious that you’re not affected by the alcohol. I’ve never enjoyed being drunk.”

“You don’t strike me as the sort of person who gets drunk all that often.” Clark remarks as he pours himself another glass of wine.

“I went through a phase, right before I ran away.”

“… you ran away when you were seventeen.”

“Having a table always waiting for you in restaurants isn’t the only… ‘benefit’ of being the Wayne heir.” Rachel replies with a shrug. “Though I hardly think the rich have a monopoly on underage drinking. Don’t tell me you never did it?”

“Twice in Smallville, once in college.” Clark admits. “But I didn’t know I was drinking alcohol the first time.”

“Somebody spiked the punch at prom?”

“We called it ‘winter formal’, but yes.” Clark laughs. “The second time a friend of mine took a six-pack from his dad and we split it… well we were going to split it, but since it wasn’t affecting me, I just thought it tasted horrible so my friends drank most of it.”

“And in college?”

“Well technically it was the summer before college. Kansas State’s football team was trying to recruit me— I played in high school.” Clark explains. “One of their alums was having a fancy reception for freshmen and insisted I have a glass.”

“And you were too polite to refuse.”

“Really I was more concerned with trying to figure out how to refuse the football scholarship they were offering me.” Clark shrugs. “I mean, they were offering me a full ride.”

“So why refuse?” Rachel asks. “I mean, you played in high school…”

“Yeah— but I played in a very small town that was used to unusual things happening.” Clark replies. “And even then there were a few close calls— I’d forget that a tackle should have grounded me, or use a bit too much strength… I didn’t want to have to spend the next four years in the spotlight, so to speak.”

“Makes sense. There are times when I have trouble playing the part of ‘Billionaire Rachel Wayne’… you, on the other hand, have to pretend to be an entirely different species. The only other person I know who does that spend the majority of his time in other space.”

“Well J’onn wasn’t raised on Earth.” Clark shrugs as he chases a piece of octopus around the bowl with his spoon. “And I didn’t know I wasn’t human until my freshman year of high school.”

“Your powers didn’t manifest until then?” Rachel asks, stealing another piece of bread and dipping it in the rapidly disappearing bouillabaisse.

“Not all of them.” Clark explains. “I’ve had my strength, speed, most of my invulnerability and at least some of my super-human senses for as long as I can remember… the rest started coming through in high school and I couldn’t reliably fly till about halfway through college.”

“Reliably fly?” Rachel asks, raising one eyebrow.

“I may have been responsible for a few human sized craters in my dad’s cow field the first few times I tried.” Clark admits, passing the dregs of his soup over to Rachel and accepting the last ravioli from the Billionaire. “But surly you must have had some similar experiences— with your grappling gun and cape.”

“I did have a few close calls.” Rachel replies. “The suit took the majority of the damage— leaving me with just some bruises that were easy enough to cover… and CEO’s pissed at me because I feel asleep in a board meeting, so he’s trying to get me to do some kind of ‘goodwill tour’ of the companies we’ve just acquired.”

Thrown by the sudden shift, not just in subject of conversation but in the tone of Rachel’s voice— which has abruptly shifted from the voice of a normal adult woman to a sort of faux-childlike whining— Clark unconsciously straightens up, like a kid who has almost fallen asleep in class. However before he can say anything he realizes that the shift in his companion’s tone is due to Rachel noticing the arrival of their waiter before Clark. As the Man of Steel realizes this Rachel pretends to suddenly become aware of the waiter’s arrival and —still using her faux-childlike voice, which Clark can now vaguely remember hearing in a few video interviews she’d given to other members of the press— gushes about how amazing everything had tasted and how the waiter really had to pass her compliments along to the chef.

The waiter smiles and promises to do exactly that as he quickly clears their table and a young woman— whom Clark assumes is Emprica’s chef, given the white uniform she is wearing and the rag stained with some sort of sauce which is peaking out of a pocket of said uniform. The young woman— who introduces herself as Chef Sofia Eveline— politely thanks Rachel Wayne for choosing Empirica, in a tone of voice which strongly implies that while she does enjoy cooking for people, she’d rather be doing that instead of serving a VIP, no matter how VI that P is. Then the waiter— who had left with the dishes from Clark and Rachel’s entrées— returns, with the tarte Tatin and a bowl of what must be the Tahitian vanilla ice cream, which Chef Eveline expertly plates for them tableside. After a muttered encouragement to enjoy their desert the chef and waiter head off, leaving the two alone once more with their desert plates.

The tarte Tatin is, strangely enough, exactly what Clark had pictured mentally when Rachel described it as “an upside down pastry” resulting from a failed apple pie. The puff pastry which forms the base is ruffled, reminding Clark of a swirling skirt, while the apple slices are carefully arranged on top in a delicate spiral of caramelized fruit. The ice cream, which is slowly beginning to melt due to the heat of the pastry, is half pooled on top of, half pooled under the tarte. When Clark takes a bite he’s reminded of his mother’s apple pie, though the tarte tastes more of caramel then any apple pie Clark’s had before and the ice cream is richer then the stuff Clark is used to.

“It’s not as good as your mother’s.” The suddenness of Rachel’s remark and the abrupt return to her normal voice causes Clark to jump slightly before he smiles at the compliment.

“That’s high praise— especially from someone who says they don’t like pie.”

“I never said I _don’t_ like pie.” Rachel objects, reaching over to poke Clark’s shoulder with the but of her fork before returning to the tarte Tatin. “I just said I wasn’t as much of a pie person as Dick… though really it’s more that I don’t have as much of a sweet tooth as Dick does.”

“So you’re more of a sour person?” Clark asks, not bothering to hide his smile, which earns him a playful swat from the Dark Knight.

“You’re too late, Dick’s already made ever variation of that joke known to man.” Rachel laughs. “But yes— I’m more a fan of sour then I am of sweet. If there’d been any desert on the menu with lemon in it I’d be thoroughly enjoying that right now… but this is pretty good.”

“But not as good as my mom’s?”

“No. Not as good as your mom’s.” Rachel replies as she reaches into a pocket of her pants and pulls out a credit card, which she places on the far side of their now empty desert plates, next to their bottle of wine, which is a little less than half full. “And no— I’m not just saying that because I want to get on your good side… or on her’s. Though I would, obviously, like that.”

“Maybe… maybe next time you can come over to Smallville?” Clark offers, not quite managing to meet Rachel’s eyes as he speaks. “I mean… I’m sure she’ll want to meet you—”

“Especially after the article that will inevitably arise from me taking you out to dinner?” Rachel asks. “I hope you plan on calling her tonight.”

“Strangely enough that was one of the first thoughts that ran through my head when you pulled up in front of the Planet.” Clark replies. “I try to keep her as informed as I can… about both sides of my life.”

“Yes.” Rachel says suddenly as she places her fork down on her now empty plate.

“Yes?” Clark blinks, looking up from the last bits of his slice of the tarte Tatin. “Yes what?”

“Yes… I’d like to meet your mother.” Rachel elaborates.

“She’ll want to feed you.”

“Well seeing as how my… surrogate-father has fed you, that seems fair to me.” Rachel replies. “Whatever works best for you mom— just tell me when and I’ll be there.”

“You…” Clark trails off as a waiter— apparently having seen Rachel deposit her credit car on the table— swings by to pick it up and promises to return with the check and a carry-out bag for their wine in a second. As soon as the man is out of earshot Clark turns his attention back to Rachel. “You know, she wouldn’t mind working around your schedule…”

“Well I don’t really have one.” Rachel shrugs. “I mean, beyond my nighttime activities my schedule is remarkably malleable... especially now that everyone expects me to be recovering from being kidnapped. Besides, I figure it’s more polite to allow your mom to dictate the terms of her first meeting with a billionaire.”

Once again Clark is prevented from saying anything by the return of their waiter, who passes the check over to Rachel to be signed before expertly corking their unfinished wine and placing it inside a small bag. As soon as she has signed the check— which Clark pointedly does not look at— Rachel stands up and Clark follows her, absentmindedly taking the bag of wine as the Billionaire wraps an arm around his waist and the two slowly walk out of the restaurant together.

“Gonna drive me home?” Clark asks as they step through Empirica’s doors, where apparently someone had alerted the valet to their departure, since Rachel’s Lamborghini is waiting for them.

“Unless you want to.” Rachel replies with a smile as she takes the keys back from the valet. “Or do you not know how to drive?”

“I’m a farm boy—I’ve been driving my dad’s rusted pick-up around since middle school.” Clark replies as he moves towards the passenger door and Rachel heads towards the driver’s side. “But I haven’t really driven anything since I moved to Metropolis and rather not drive a car that probably costs more then I make in a year.”

Rachel smiles, but says nothing as she slides into the driver’s seat and— after quickly glancing over at Clark— she heads back off through the streets of Metropolis, this time heading towards Clark’s modest apartment.

“What about you?” Clark asks. “When you’d learn to drive?”

“England. About two weeks after I left Gotham.”

“Alfred hadn’t taught you?” Clark asks, placing the bottle of wine by his feet as he looks over at the Billionaire.

“He was going to… I’d gotten my learner’s permit and everything, I just ran away before we could get to the actual driving part of it.” Rachel replies. “So I ended up learning how to drive from two brothers— who will most definitely want to meet you.”

“You kept in contact with them?” Clark asks. “I… well I guess I was under the assumption that you’d given false names to pretty much everyone you came in contact with on your… ‘trip’”

“I did.” Rachel replies. “But these brothers were the ones who taught me how to deduce… how to be a detective— they wouldn’t have been very good teachers if they hadn’t figured out that ‘Beatrice Kane’ wasn’t my real name. However they respected my need to disappear… and while they tried to hide it I could tell they were overjoyed to see that I returned to Gotham relatively safe and sound.”

“Do they know?” Clark asks and Rachel nods.

“Remember when I got shot by that Arkham guard?” Rachel asks, glancing away from the road just long enough to see Clark nod. “The older of the two brothers—Mycroft— he has… um, connections. People that I can trust because he trusts them.”

“So one of his people…” Clark trails off, thinking back to when he’d heard that Batwoman was shot— back before he’d known that Rachel Wayne and the Dark Knight were one and the same.

“Stitched me up, kept an eye on me while I recovered… and has the only complete version of my medical records outside of Alfred’s head.”

“Well then I hope I get to meet him soon— so I can thank him for saving your life.” Clark replies, reaching over to rest a hand on top of Rachel’s leg. The Billionaire smiles as she brings the Lamborghini to a stop in front of Clark’s apartment building, puts the car in park.

“Sorry for springing all of this on you.” The Dark Knight practically whispers as she turns towards the Last Son of Kyrpton.

“Don’t be. I had fun.” Clark admits. “Sure I felt out of place… but I had fun.”

“I did too.” Rachel replies. “I’m sorry about all the… attention you must be getting, due to my actions on the Watchtower and I’m sorry your going to have to walk into the Planet tomorrow with all of your coworkers—”

The Man of Steel cuts the Dark Knight off by leaning forward pressing his lips against her’s. The kiss only last a few seconds before Rachel pulls back… only to take a deep breath and lean forward to return the kiss— this time with a huge smile on her face as her hands reach out and tangle in Clark’s short hair… while the mild mannered reporter’s hands do the same to Rachel’s long black locks. This time when the two heroes part they are wearing near identical dopy smiles and Clark finds himself panting as Rachel gently presses her forehead against his but makes no move to untangle her fingers from Clark’s hair or to hide from the Man of Steel’s gaze.

“I’ll see you soon.” Clark promises, biting his tongue to prevent himself from asking Rachel if she wants to come up to his apartment. His parents raised him better.

“You better.” Rachel replies as she gently release her grip on Clark’s hair, pressing her lips against his once more in a quick final kiss before letting him climb out of the car. “Goodnight Clark.”

“Goodnight Rachel.” Clark smiles and takes a step back from the curb and watches as— after a strange half-second’s hesitation— the Billionaire drives her Lamborghini away, leaving the Last Son of Krypton standing in front of his apartment building with a smile on his face as he fights the urge to run after her.

 

**Author’s Notes:**

In this chapter Rachel drives a jet black Lamborghini Murcielago Convertible. [Here is a picture of the car.](http://www.moibibiki.com/gallery/model-401/lamborghini-murcielago-black-1.jpg.html)

Empirica, named via a random name generator, is not based upon any real restaurant, although everything that Rachel and Clark eat there (save for the Bouillabiase) is taken from Gordon Ramsay’s menus, which can be found [here](http://www.gordonramsay.com/royalhospitalroad/menus/).

I have also put together a little visual reference for Rachel and Clark’s dinner, which can be found on [the Rachel Wayne Universe Tumblr](http://rachel-wayne.tumblr.com/post/120846204206/empirica-the-three-star-restraint-with-a-four).

The British brothers who taught Rachel to drive are Mycroft and Sherlock Holmes, from the BBC modern day version of _Sherlock_ … or more specifically from my _Sherlock_ fanfiction [Illuminating The World](http://archiveofourown.org/works/314660/chapters/504624) which is _roughly_ cannon with this fanfiction and has had minor crossovers before. The name Rachel used (Beatrice Kane) is inspired by Bob Kane, one of the creators of Batman.

Also, a random fact— I wrote about half of this chapter while watching _Hell’s Kitchen_ and the other half while re-watching season 1 of _Hannibal_. And I got hungrier when seeing the food on _Hannibal_ then the food on _Hell’s Kitchen_.


	47. A Posse Ad Esse

**_A Posse Ad Esse = Latin for “From Possibility To Actuality”_ **

Punching— and then _kissing_ — the Man of Steel is, perhaps, the most impulsive thing which Rachel Antonietta Wayne has ever done. The only thing that can come anywhere close— in _any_ part of her life— is when she _~~took a gun to Joe Chill’s parole hearing~~_ left Gotham after Joe Chill’s murder. Even the high profiled frivolities which she’s undertaken in her “Billionaire Playgirl” persona don’t come anywhere close— after all, most of those acts (such as absconding with an entire Russian ballet troupe) had been carefully planned to allow Batwoman to do something or to help distance Rachel Wayne from her alter ego.

Telling Clark Kent about the League of Shadows, Ra’s Al Ghul and— most importantly— the fact that their _son_ is buried underneath the weeping willow which the Last Son of Krypton and the Dark Knight had almost kissed under less then twenty-four hours ago is, undoubtedly, the hardest and most terrifying thing which Rachel has _ever_ done… but at the same time it ends up being so much easier then she had ever thought it could be, especially considering that it’s the _first_ time she’s told the whole story to anyone.

Sure, there are people who _know_ about the whole mess, but they either figured it out on their own, with only minimal input from Rachel (the Holmes-Watsons) had been present for roughly half of the mess and were then told about the rest over a period of several months (Alfred Pennyworth) or had been told a highly edited version of events due to the fact that, while they spent their nights fighting crime, they were still only _twelve_ years old (Richard Grayson). The only other time that Rachel had come anywhere close to telling the whole story to someone that someone (Bruce Dawes) had died before she could do so— and even then Rachel had never imagined that it could go… well as _smoothly_ as it ended up going with Clark.

Partially the smoothness seems to be due to the fact that Clark is— either by virtue of how he was raised by Martha and Jonathan Kent, or by virtue of the fact that he is a good reporter— a very good listener. Apart from one or two understandable outbursts, he is quite when Rachel needs to speak, says just enough to keep her going when doing so become difficult and holds her just tight enough that she feels secure and just loose enough that she doesn’t feel trapped… which leads to Rachel doing the _second_ most impulsive thing in her life—she tells Clark to get his best suit dry-cleaned, start working on his resume and prepare to move to Gotham, so that the two of them can see each other not just as Batwoman and Superman, but as Rachel Wayne and Clark Kent.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Ever since Rachel Wayne returned to Gotham and began her crusade against the superstitious and cowardly underbelly of her city Alfred Pennyworth has served her breakfast—or on occasion (when she’s been out longer then usual or needs more sleep) lunch— in bed, usually with said meal accompanied by _The Gotham Gazette_ and any relevant news which either the Billionaire or the Dark Knight need to know. When Richard Grayson moved into Wayne Manor Rachel had made an effort to stumble downstairs to have breakfast with both her ward and the man who’d raised her, but the Dark Knight had still ended up needing the extra sleep and rest which a breakfast in bed afforded her. So, shortly after Mother’s Day, Dick had started coming into Rachel’s room and stealing part of the breakfast try which Alfred would bring up. It hadn’t taken long for the Wayne Family Butler to start bringing up enough food for both his charges and a new morning routine had been established.

Alfred Pennyworth would prepare a tray with a huge bowl of cereal for Robin, a more “well rounded” breakfast for Batwoman (which would always be just large enough for both Dick and Alfred to “steal” portion of) a small teapot for himself and a pitcher of coffee, alongside two mugs, for the uncultured Americans. (Rachel took her’s black most days, but would occasionally add a splash of milk, while Dick’s mug always had more milk and/or creamer then coffee in it)

After preparing this tray, Alfred would head upstairs, pausing to knock on Dick’s door before going in to wake up Rachel and start discussing what needed to be done that day. Dick would come stumbling in, usually with Ace following him (unless the dog had decided to sleep with his Mistress the previous night) and hop up on the bed alongside Rachel, while Alfred would sort of perch on the side. They’d split up the various sections of _The Gotham Gazette_ , watch GCN on TV and occasionally discuss the previous night’s patrol while working their way through breakfast.

“Clark Kent and I are going to start dating.”

It is the morning after Rachel kissed Clark in the Cave. Alfred Pennyworth is on her left, reading _The Gotham Gazette’s_ front page article on Aresia’s attack on Star City and Dick Grayson is on her right, not quite watching GCN and mostly focused on the bowl of cereal in front of him, while Rachel is about halfway through her first cup of coffee. (All things considered yesterday wasn’t too bad, so today will probably only be a three cup day… unless tonight’s patrol ends up being a long one.)

“Publically.” Rachel adds after a second’s hesitation, before setting her not-quite empty cup down and taking a bite of the protein scramble which Alfred has cooked her.

“What?!” Dick squeaks, a heaping spoonful of (non-sugary) cereal frozen halfway between the bowl and his mouth. (Dick only gets sugary cereal for breakfast on the weekends… and occasionally on mornings after particularly hard patrols.) After a second spent staring at his adoptive mother— who continues to eat her breakfast as if nothing unusual has occurred— Dick puts his spoon back and the bowl and purposefully shifts his body so that he can more easily stare at her. “ _Really?_ ”

“Congratulations Miss Wayne.” Alfred remarks, his smile hidden by his teacup but clear in the warmth of his words. “I take it that Mister Kent was the source of the intruder alarms in the Cave last night?”

“Yes _really_ and yes, that was Clark.” Rachel replies, picking up her coffee cup and holding it in her hands for a second before taking a sip and continuing her explanation. “We talked… I told him about— about Henri and we decided that we didn’t want this to be something which only affects the _caped_ side of our lives.”

“Should I look in to acquiring a second residence of some sort in Metropolis?” Alfred asks as he pours himself another cup of tea.

“No— um…” Rachel blushes, an action which draws a laugh from Richard Grayson and a raised eyebrow from Alfred Pennyworth. “We agreed that I’d take him on a high profile date and… well he’d apply to _The Gazette_ and move to Gotham.”

There is a moment of silence, where Rachel focuses intently on her coffee and her protein scramble, Alfred Pennyworth simply smiles and Dick stares wide-eyed at his adoptive mother, a smile slowly growing on his face until—

“FUCK YEAH MY MOM’S DATING SUPERMAN!” Dick screams, causing both Rachel and Alfred to jump slightly as the young acrobat throws his arms up and doing a little victory dance that is turned into more of a victory wiggle due to the fact that he is still sitting on the bed next to Rachel.

“ _Language!_ ” Both Alfred and Rachel shout back at (almost) the exact same time, although Rachel starts laughing before she’s really managed to get the reprimand out and Alfred has a smile on his face.

“So—” Rachel smiles, pausing for a second to press a kiss to Dick’s cheek before she turns back to Alfred. “Seeing as how I have a whole lot of nothing that requires my attention today… I thought I’d go to Metropolis and surprise Clark.”

“Shall I arrange for one of the Wayne Enterprises jets to be made available?” Alfred asks, calmly swiping an English muffin off the breakfast tray and taking a bite before returning to his tea.

“No, I don’t need a jet… but would you arrange a hotel room in Metropolis?” Rachel asks. “I was thinking of driving, taking Clark out to dinner and then teleporting back here for patrol and publically returning to Gotham tomorrow, or the day after.”

“Very well, I’m sure Master Grayson and I can amuse ourselves in the meantime."

“Oh god the tabloids are gonna be _amazing_ tomorrow.” Dick whispers as he leans back against the pillows of his mother’s bed and starts eating his cereal again. “Wait— does this mean that we get to threaten him? _Please_ tell me it means we get to threaten him!”

“Wait, threaten _Clark?_ ” Rachel blinks, staring in confusion at her son. “ Why would you threaten Clark?”

“Well someone has to give him the shovel talk!”

“… the what now?” Rachel asks, turning towards Alfred.

“The ‘shovel talk’ is a reference to a television show, in which a female character threatens to beat her best friend’s boyfriend to death with a shovel if he hurts her.” Alfred explains before turning towards Dick Grayson. “The only problem is that I don’t think we have enough kryptonite to make a shovel…”

“But we’ve got enough for a few bullets for your shotgun.” Dick points out. “Or we could just, you know, use the kryptonite we have to weaken him and _then_ use the shovel…”

“… I haven’t had enough coffee for this conversation.” Rachel mutters.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Rachel Wayne has gone on _a lot_ of dates… or at least she’s gone out with a lot of people who _thought_ that they were on a date with Gotham’s Most Eligible Bachelorette. However she’d never gone on an _actual_ date— that being one where she had even the slightest bit of emotional or romantic involvement or interest in the other person. The closest that she’d ever come was when she’d crashed Bruce Dawes and Hannah Dent’s date so that she could meet the District Attorney.

So— as Rachel Wayne drives from Gotham to Metropolis in one of her newer cars (with her newest being the Batpod version 2 which Lucius had modified so that Robin can ride behind Batwoman on it or drive the motorcycle if necessary) a jet black convertible Lamborghini Murcielago which has (among other things) a Batsuit hidden in a secret compartment in the trunk— she alternates between worrying about her upcoming date with Clark Kent and focusing on enjoying the handling and speed of her car so that she _won’t_ worry about said upcoming date.

Alfred has arranged a room for her— actually the same hotel and the same room which she’d stayed in the _last_ time she visited Metropolis, back when she was trying to track down the Clown Prince of Crime and the massive chunk of kryptonite he had acquired— and there is a small suitcase sitting in the equally small trunk of her Lamborghini, with a change of clothes for tomorrow and a nightshirt, despite the fact that Rachel is (most likely) going to sleep in her own bed at the Manor after tonight’s patrol and could just as easily get changed at home before teleporting over to the hotel to publically leave Metropolis.

Additionally, while she hasn’t made a reservation at _Empirica_ , Rachel had made several subtle inquiries before setting out, where she’d determined that the restaurant’s chef table will most likely be empty by the time she pick up Clark and gets over to that part of Metropolis.

“Speaking of Clark…” Rachel mutters to herself, reaching over and pressing a button to activate the hands-free system which—in addition to being able to hook up to her cell phone— has the ability to connect to the communicators which Batwoman and Robin use. “Alfred— have you got a location on our friendly neighborhood alien?”

“Seeing as how this is not _exactly_ a matter of any urgency, I am allowing Master Grayson to practice his hacking abilities.” Alfred replies. “With my supervision of course”

“Oh?” Rachel smiles as she passes a sign informing her that she is entering Metropolis. “And how is he doing?”

“Well I hacked into the Daily Planet’s security camera feeds… which honestly was _waaay_ too easy.” Dick replies as— in the background— Rachel can hear the sound of her adoptive son’s fingers flying over the keyboard of the computer in the Cave. “But there weren’t a lot of them, so I ended up hacking some computers as well— for the webcams. Anyway it looks like— given the traffic— you should get there right as Clark and his coworkers are waiting for the light.”

“Thanks Dick.” Rachel smiles as she exits the freeway and, as she starts making her way through the street of Clark’s city, lowers the convertible roof on her Lamborghini. “Get some sleep okay? I don’t want you yawning on patrol tonight.”

“Okay— have fun Mom, I’ll see you later.”

“I’ll call you before I head over to Gotham.”

There is a moment of silence, in which Rachel thinks that her “home base” has hung up, but then—as she reaches the last light that she’ll have to wait at before arriving at _The Daily Planet_ — a final message comes over the line.

“Good luck Miss Wayne.”

“I make my own luck Alfred… but thanks.” Rachel replies, a smile slowly spreading on her face as she catches sight of what must be Clark’s coworkers, all waiting in front of _The Daily Planet_ for the light to turn so that they can cross the street and slows to a stop in front of them.

_“Hey do any of you know where the nearest barn is? I’m here to pick up a farm boy.”_

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_“Goodnight Clark.”_

_“Goodnight Rachel.”_

Rachel Wayne leaves Clark Kent standing in front of his apartment building with a stupid smile on his face… which just happens to be practically a mirror image of the smile which remains fixed upon her face as she drives over to her hotel and only vanishes when she ends up checking in with a young man who appears to think that, if he flirts hard enough, the Billionaire will invite him up to her room.

As Rachel Wayne steps into her hotel room a call comes in via her Justice League communicator— which she’d removed for her date with Clark and put back in as she pulled up in front of her hotel, which happens to be the exact same one which she had stayed in the last time she came to Gotham, back when she was chasing after the Clown Prince of Crime and the massive chunk of kryptonite he’d managed to aquire.

“Comissioner Gordon has just turned on the Batsignal.” Alfred Pennyworth informs her as Rachel places her suitcase on the bed and locks the door to her hotel room. “It would appear that he feels the need to speak with you.”

“I’m on my way.” Rachel replies as the Justice League’s teleporter deposits her in the auxiliary cave which lies below downtown Gotham and she flips a switch which causes the metal and glass cage that she keeps the Batwoman and Robin suits in to rise from the floor, along with the shelves containing all the assorted gear which goes into the pockets of their utility belts. “Robin, what’s your status?”

“Making my way downtown.” Robin replies and, in the background of his side of the call, Rachel can hear the roar of the Tumbler’s engines.

“Meet me at Police HQ.” Batwoman says, ending the call as she pulls on her cowl and, after a quick check to make sure that everything is in place she heads towards the elevator which allows entrance to the auxiliary cave from both street level and from the roof of the building which sits over the cave. Said building— which is owned by a subsidiary of subsidiary of Wayne Enterprises— is only about ten minutes from Gotham Police Headquarters as the bat (or robin) flies… so James Gordon has been waiting for a little more than fifteen minutes by the time that Batwoman lands next to the searchlight which projects her symbol on to the clouds high over Gotham.

The Gotham Police Commissioner, who is sitting on the edge of the roof with a to-go cup of coffee in his hands, makes no move to turn off the Batsignal. Instead, upon Batwoman’s arrival, he reaches down and picks up a cardboard cup holder which has two cups still sitting in it.

“No kid tonight?” Gordon asks as the Dark Knight moves to stand in front of him and he holds the cup holder out to her.

“He’ll be here shortly.” Batwoman replies as she takes one of the coffee cups and sips at it’s contents. Although the coffee is in no way comparable to Alfred’s, it’s still pretty good and obviously not from any of the coffee makers inside of Police HQ which (she has been told) are _horrible._ “He listening in— what’s wrong?”

“I just got word from Arkham.” The Commissioner informs her as he places the cup holder and it’s one remaining cup on wall beside him. “The Joker escaped sometime last night.”

“ _Last night!?_ And we’re only hearing about it now?”

“Because Harley Quinn escaped in the last few hours and it wasn’t until _she_ went missing that Arkham realized the Joker was unaccounted for.” Gordon explains. “Aaron Cash thinks that the last overnight shift let him out— we’re bringing them in for questioning now.”

“So they let the Joker out last night, while everyone was distracted by the attack on Star City…” Batwoman realizes. “Why didn’t the next shift realize that the Joker was out of his cell?”

“The overnight shift signed off on the morning bed check and told the morning shift that the Joker was attacking anyone who came down his corridor.”

“So they decided to just play it safe and use the cameras.” Batwoman sighs. “Which the previous shift tampered with.”

“And then the Joker sprung Harley in-between dinner and evening bed check tonight.” Gordon nods. “Didn’t even bother disabling the security camera’s around her cell— he just sprung her and hightailed it out of there.”

“Any injuries?” Robin asks, causing the Police Commissioner to jump slightly as the young hero all but materializes at Batwoman’s side, snatching up the remaining to-go cup and downing what looks like half of it in one go.

“A few members of security got a lungful of the Joker’s gas, but they’re responding well to treatment.” Gordon informs the young man, who is perched on the wall beside him, while Batwoman remains standing in front of the Commissioner. “So how soon do you think he’ll attack?”

“Two weeks is average.” Robin notes, absentmindedly passing the apparently empty cup back and forth between his two hands.

“If he broke out using force instead of subterfuge then it would only be a matter of days.” The Dark Knight explains. “We’ll find him Jim.”

“I’ll send anything we get from the Arkham employees.” Gordon sighs as he pulls his glasses off and absentmindedly cleans them with his tie. “Bullock and Mason should be bringing them in any—”

The Commissioner cuts himself off as, after putting his glasses back on, he realizes that he is alone on the roof of Police Headquarters, with nothing but two empty to-go coffee cups which have thoughtfully been placed back in the cardboard holder by his feet to show that the Dark Knight and her “squire” had ever been there.

“Every damn time.”

As the Commissioner grabs the cardboard holder and heads over to the Batsignal to turn it off, Batwoman and Robin land on top of a skyway which connects an office building to the parking garage across the street.

“I parked the Tumbler in the usual spot.” Robin informs her. “So off to Arkham?”

“No— it sounds like Gordon has things under control on that front.” Batwoman replies as she mentally plots out a route for tonight’s patrol of Gotham. “We’ll hit the streets, see if any of the usual suspects know anything and warn the Bowery girls to be on the lookout for clowns.”

“What about tracking the Joker through the components of his laughing gas?” Robin asks. “I mean, from what you’ve told me that stuff doesn’t ‘keep’ for very long and he’s been in Arkham for quite a while.”

“So it’s possible he needs to replenish his stocks.” Batwoman agrees. “HQ?”

“Already on it Miss.” HQ (aka Alfred Pennyworth) replies as Batwoman leaps off the skyway and fires off her grappling hook, Robin following close behind her as the two heroes begin their patrol. “The cave’s computer is now tracking orders for the relevant compounds and monitoring the security system of local sources of those compounds. I shall keep you abreast of any and all developments.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The patrol isn’t in vein— but then no Gotham patrol ever is. Even on the most uneventful of nights the Dark Knight and her squire leave Gotham ever so slightly better off then they found her. However— while there are now two fewer drug dealers roaming the streets, three petty thieves on their way to prison and a pedophile currently confessing his sins and telling Detective Renee Montoya exactly where his kiddy porn stash can be found— Gotham’s two heroes and her police force are no closer to finding the Joker and Harley Quinn…

However they do know a bit more about _how_ the Joker had broken out of Akrham and they have a list of where he and Harley Quinn are _not_. Commissioner Gordon’s interrogation of the Arkham employees who looped the security footage of the Joker’s cell and let the mad man out of his cage has revealed that blame for the Clown Prince of Crime’s escape could be directly laid at the feet of two men… and both of those men’s savings accounts had recently doubled in size.

Meanwhile Batwoman and Robin’s patrol of the city and their interrogations of the usual suspects had revealed no sign of the Joker at several of his former hideouts, including the one which they were fairly confident that he had been living in the last time he was out of Arkham. Additionally the investigation of those former hideouts had revealed two stockpiles of laughing gas and the chemicals needed for the Joker to make more of his laughing gas.

Before learning of the Joker and Harley Quinn’s escape from Arkham, Rachel had been contemplating spending another day in Metropolis and— while it would perhaps be beneficial to the separation of Batwoman and Rachel Wayne for her to do so despite recent events— Rachel would rather not have to keep up such a charade, or deal with confronting the inevitable flood of tabloid reporters without the assistance of Alfred Pennyworth and the fences of Wayne Manor.

Despite her desire to return to Gotham, upon leaving her Metropolis hotel Rachel Wayne does not drive her Lamborghini on to the freeway, but instead heads across town and— after a quick coffee stop— parks the convertible in front of Clark Kent’s apartment building and leisurely sips at her overpriced coffee. Without actually trying to do so Rachel ends up timing things rather well— she’s only been sitting in her car for about four minutes by the time Clark Kent steps out of the building and the Man of Steel looks genuinely surprised to see her.

“Hey farm boy, need a ride?” Rachel asks as she plucks the second cup of coffee she’d purchased out of the cup holder and offers it to Clark as he climbs into the Lamborghini.

“Thanks.” Clark replies, flashing a dazzling smile as he takes a sip of said coffee as he buckles his seatbelt. “So— are you headed back to Gotham today?”

“Yes.” Rachel replies as she maneuvers the car into the morning traffic. “I take it you’ve seen the news?”

“I’ve made a point of keeping up to date with events in Gotham.” Clark admits. “Was anyone hurt in the breakout?”

“No, the Joker bribed two workers to set things up and then snuck out with Harley Quinn.”

“The Joker _snuck_ out?”

“He can be remarkably sneaky when he wants to… he just usually doesn’t want to. Dick and I are stepping up our patrols and we’re keeping an eye on the chemicals which the Joker uses to make his laughing gas.” Rachel explains. “So, to make my life just the slightest bit easier, I’m heading back to Gotham after I drop you off at the Planet. After all, what sort of date would I be if I let you face the tabloid reporters on your lonesome?”

“Wait— what tabloid reporters?” Clark practically squeaks.

“Well, your coworkers saw you get into my car last night and we didn’t exactly _sneak_ into Empirica.” Rachel replies, taking a corner ever so slightly faster and tighter than necessary, an action which draws the tiniest of gasps from the Man of Steel. “I’m willing to bet that there are a minimum of five outside _The Daily Planet_ hoping to catch your ‘walk of shame’.”

“ _Walk of shame?_ ”

“There weren’t any reporters outside your apartment— so that probably means no one saw me drop you off.”

“So they think I…” Clark trails off and Rachel has to bite her lip to keep from laughing at the look on the Man of Steel’s face.

“Hence the ‘walk of shame’ comment.” Rachel nods. “I hope you called your mother.”

“I called last night and left a message— told her not to freak out if she saw anything about me in the papers tomorrow and that I’d come home for dinner and explain everything.”

 _You can tell her._ Rachel almost says, but before she can force the words past her lips _The Daily Planet_ building comes into view… along with what seems like a veritable hoard of reporters milling around outside the entrance, in almost the exact same place that Clark’s coworkers had been standing when Rachel had pulled up the previous night. As the Lamborghini gets closer to Clark’s place of employment Rachel can tell that one or two of the reporters in front of the building are “armed” with video cameras.

“Ready?” She asks Clark, reaching over to briefly rest her hand on the Last Son of Krypton’s knee.

“I guess.” Clark gulps audibly, shaking himself slightly as he puts his mild mannered reporter persona on as Rachel does the same with her Billionaire Playgirl persona. As the car rolls to a stop in front of _The Daily Planet_ and the reporters surge towards them Clark Kent and Rachel Wayne look exactly how everyone expects them too— from the little smirk on the playgirl’s face to the awkward blush coloring the face of the farm boy turned reporter.

Amid a cacophony of shouted questions— directed at both the native Gothamite and Smallville transplant— and the veritable lightening storm of flashes from the reporter’s cameras, Clark Kent turns towards Rachel Wayne, apparently to offer an awkward but no doubt heartfelt goodbye, only for the Billionaire to reach out, grab a fistful of his shirt and tie and pull him into a kiss. Somehow Rachel Wayne’s “ _Call me.”_ can be heard over the roar of reporters, as can Clark Kent’s “ _I will._ ”

Clark Kent somehow manages to get the door of Rachel Wayne’s car open and step out on to the exceedingly crowded sidewalk. The crowd split almost perfectly in half, with some choosing to follow their fellow reporter while others stay clustered around the passenger side of the Lamborghini, wanting to get a quote from Rachel Wayne but unwilling to step out on to the street in order to do so. Rachel doesn’t respond to any of their questions and the second that Clark Kent steps past _The Daily Planet_ ’s security officers and into the building she takes off, not even bothering to try and contain her laughter at the crestfallen look on the reporters she leaves behind in the dust.

As soon as the tracker in her car registers that Rachel Wayne is a block away from _The Daily Planet_ a program on the computer back in the cave activates, sending a text message to Clark Kent, who is doing his best not to fidget as h waits for the elevator to deposit him on the correct floor and force him to confront his coworkers.

_Tell your boss I’ll give him an exclusive. That should keep you from being too badly mauled for sitting on this bombshell. –RW_

**_Thanks, I was getting worried about that._ **

_No problem. Hope you have a good dinner with your mother. –RW_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Yes, that is— once again— a reference to my Sherlock fanfiction Illuminating The World (http://archiveofourown.org/works/314660/chapters/504624) which (as I mentioned last chapter) is roughly cannon with this fanfiction.


	48. Ad Hominem

_Ad Hominem = Latin for “To Attack A Person’s Character”_

_Note: “Ad Hominem” actually translates to “to the man / person” but the phrase is used to describe attacks on a person’s character._

Gotham City had started off as a small settlement of Scandinavians on Miagani Island— so named for the Native American Tribe who had lived on the island and the others nearby which were spread across the mouth of the Gotham River like leaves on a pond. Over the years the Miagani Tribe had died out as the settlement grew into a city and slowly spread out to the surrounding islands. Darius Wayne lead the city in making the jump across the river to the northern mainland when, in 1786, he began construction of Wayne Manor on a parcel of land which he had received for his service during the Revolutionary War.

It had taken Gotham considerably longer to make the jump across the river to the eastern mainland— it wasn’t until shortly before World War I that suburbs began to spring up on that side of the Gotham River and said suburbs had only begun to spread north up the river’s banks when construction began in 1946 on what would become the Archie Goodwin International Airport.

By the time that Rachel Wayne sees the first freeway exit sign for Gotham City she has been driving her Lamborghini Murcielago for a little more than three hours— and she had spent most of that time with the top down and her music blaring out of the jet black car’s speakers. The Princess of Gotham hits a button which raises the roof of the convertible and turns the music down as she heads off the freeway and towards the entrance to the Brown Bridge—which, in addition to being the oldest bridge spanning the Gotham River, has been the southernmost connection between Gotham City and the mainland ever since the Dixon Dock Ferry was closed down.

It would technically make more sense for Rachel Wayne to keep driving north on the mainland and take the Moony Bridge across the Gotham River before heading east to Wayne Manor… however that route would take her around Gotham City entirely, meaning that she would only see it from a distance. Cutting through Gotham will (undoubtedly) take longer, but will be more enjoyable then all that freeway driving.

As Rachel heads through the E-ZPass lane and on to the Brown Bridge her music automatically turns off as her cell phone starts to ring. The Billionaire briefly glances over at the Lamborghini’s radio, where the caller ID is displayed, before hitting the button on her steering wheel which transfers the call to the car’s hands-free set up.

“What can I do for the CEO of Wayne Enterprises on this fine summer day?”

“Perhaps a warning the next time you decide to taunt the press?” Lucius Fox asks, in a tone of voice which makes it clear that the older man has a smirk on his face and is more amused than annoyed with her. “I found myself walking into an ambush this morning.”

“There were reporters at Wayne Tower?”

“There are _still_ reporters at Wayne Tower.” Lucius corrects. “Some left once it became clear we had no comments to offer on your private life, but there are still some half-dozen reporters— some with cameramen— encamped outside.. I assume that there are at least as many outside the Manor?”

“I don’t know.” Rachel sighs, reaching up to run a hand through her hair. “I just got back to Gotham— I’m getting off the Brown Bridge as we speak.”

“Enjoying Gotham in the sunlight for once?” Lucius asks, drawing a smile to Rachel’s face. “Oh yes— while the reporters outside have been relatively polite, security did have to remove one reporter who attempted to sneak in via the service entrance and a… ‘fan’ who was attempting to deliver a bouquet of flowers to your office.”

“I assume his name has been added to the list?” Rachel asks with a sigh as she takes a left on to Infantino Avenue which will take her east, around the southern edge of Old Gotham and past Police Headquarters. As she drives her gaze drifts towards Wayne Tower, which sits on the northern edge of Old Gotham, only a half-block from the Diamond District.

“Moved up the list.” Lucius replies. “Mr. Schumacher has apparently been sending you letters via Wayne Enterprises for some time now— we should have a precautionary restraining order in place by this time tomorrow.”

“Thank you Lucius… setting aside my adoring fans, how are things at Wayne Tower?”

“Let’s see…” Lucius mutters. “Our inspections have turned up some minor code violations at Quest Inc’s main building— they shouldn’t take more then a week to fix. Tracer Service on the other hand passed our inspections with flying colors.”

“And EmulationCore?”

“Our Californian friends had a few irregularities in their paperwork— but that’s what you get when you have kids straight out of college running everything.” Lucius pauses for a second and, in the background, Rachel can hear the sound of her CEO typing on his computer. “We should have everything tidied up by tonight… and it appears that Competitron software may be coming on the market fairly soon.”

“Competitron Software? I’m not placing the name…” Rachel admits as she passes by Police Headquarters and turns north on to Donovan Street, which will take her to the Spring Bridge across Bob Kane Sound.

“Competitron is located in Steel City. They started making punched cards for IBM, then transitioned to making modern day computer parts and writing software. Competitron has been having financial problems ever since their attempt to break into computer games didn’t do _quite_ as well as they thought it would.”

“Do you think they’re _worth_ acquiring?”

“I think it’s worth looking into… moving Competitron to Gotham would be a good way to create new jobs and it looks like it would be profitable for Wayne Enterprises. Shall I send you the relevant information?”

“Yes, thank you… are there any developments on _other_ fronts?”

“Ah— once second Miss Wayne.” Lucius falls silent as he ensures that the phone line is secure and there are no bugs in his office. Having done a similar cheek on her car before picking Clark up that morning, Rachel simply waits for her CEO to finish his checks. “Let’s see… the programs you have searching for purchases of the chemicals the Joker is fond of using have returned a few hits, but so far they have all checked out as being placed by legitimate companies. Well, save for once which Mr. Pennyworth traced back to a budding young arsonist. We passed that information on to Commissioner Gordon through the usual channels.”

“What about our other Arkham escapees?”

“I don’t have anything beyond pure speculation on Bane whereabouts… but there has been a marked decrease in the number of Two-Face’s henchmen picked up by the police lately— and we have conformation that Selina Kyle is back in Gotham.”

“What sort of conformation?”

“Miss Kyle has RSVPed to a fundraiser benefiting the ASPCA’s Gotham branch— and made a rather large donation to the event’s silent auction. I believe that an invitation for the event is waiting for you at Wayne Manor.”

“Thank you Lucius… maybe I’ll donate some of Great-Grand Aunt Elspeth’s collection of tea sets.”

“I’m certain Mr. Pennyworth would be glad to see them go— is there anything else I can do for you Miss Wayne?”

“Nothing I can think of. Hopefully the press will realize that I’m not in and leave you alone.”

“Hopefully.” Lucius sighs. “Miss Wayne… I don’t mean to pry—”

“But why did I drive all the way to Metropolis to take a reporter out for dinner and give him a ride to work the next day?”

“I wasn’t aware of the second part, but yes.”

“Clar— Mr. Kent is not your usual reporter.” Rachel hesitates for a second and glances out her driver’s side window as she tries to figure out what to tell her CEO— she’s currently diving past the western edge of the Bowery and she can see a few members of the world’s oldest profession plying their trade even though it’s not noon yet. “Look, I can’t really talk about it right now… but Alfred and I trust Mr. Kent—completely.”

“ _Completely_?”

“ _Completely._ ”

“Well, in that case— congratulations Miss Wayne, and have a good day.”

“Same to you Lucius.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Rachel finally reaches the gates of Wayne Manor she is greeted by a crowd of some twenty or thirty people being kept a short distance away from the gates themselves by three Wayne Enterprise Security officers who had either been summoned by Alfred Pennyworth or sent over by Lucius Fox earlier. There’s also a Gotham County Sheriff’s car occupied by two officers parked off to one side… just in case.

When Rachel’s Lamborghini slows to a stop in front of the gates the reporters surge forward and surround the car— like a wave rolling in around a rock on the seashore. The Wayne Enterprises Security officers allow the reporters a moment to shout their questions and try in vain to get a picture through the tinted windows of Rachel’s car before stepping forward and calmly— but forcefully— pushing the crowd back so that the gates can swing open and Rachel can proceed inside without anyone following her on to the Manor’s grounds.

When she reaches the nondescript garage attached to the side of Wayne Manor Rachel parks her Murcielago in between another one of her “billionaire” cars— a dark blue Jaguar F-Type S Coupe— and the black Rolls Royce Phantom which Alfred usually drives when he’s playing the role of chauffer. As she steps out of her car and moves to retrieves the small suitcase she’d taken with her to Metropolis from the trunk the door which connects the garage and the rest of Wayne Manor swings open as Alfred Pennyworth steps out, carrying two medium Tupperware containers and a plastic bag with what looks like several bottles of soda and water in it.

“Need a hand?” Rachel asks, leaving her suitcase in the now open trunk and falling into step beside Alfred as he heads over to a golf cart parked in a corner of the garage next to her “subtle” motorcycle— a black Yamaha Star Bolt.

“I think your presence would make it difficult for the officers to have lunch in peace.” Alfred remarks as he places the Tupperware and plastic bag on the passenger seat of the golf cart and secures them so that they won’t roll around as he makes the short trip down to the Manor’s gates and the officers who are stationed there.

Despite growing up as one of the most famous people in Gotham Rachel Wayne hadn’t really had to hire security guards or call in the authorities for backup until _after_ Rachel’s trip around the world. However _since_ then there had been many, many times when Rachel or Alfred had been forced to upon Wayne Enterprises Security, the Gotham County Sheriff’s Office, the Gotham City Police Department or some combination of the three in order to coral the press and the public… be it at an official Wayne Enterprises event or to provide some extra security at Wayne Manor.

At some point Alfred had started feeding the officers. Rachel wasn’t sure _when_ exactly this had started since, the first time she noticed— after a high profile “date” with a member of the US Women’s Soccer Team lead to there being an entire family/cult of angry homophobes outside Wayne Manor— Alfred had apparently been providing food and drink to the men and women stationed outside the gates for some time, since he several matching sets of Tupperware, cutlery and thermoses set aside in a specific drawer in the kitchen.

“True.” Rachel sighs, running a hand through her hair as she remembers the _last_ time she’d gone with Alfred to deliver food and drink to the officers. One of her stalkers— a man who believed that Rachel was the “whore of Babylon”— had hurled a rock through the bars of the gate and managed to hit her in the side of her head. That had lead to the reporters surging forward trying to get a picture of blood on the Billionaire’s face and almost trampling Wertham and the police in the process.

“Besides, I believe Master Grayson is most eager to share today’s more… noteworthy headlines with you.” Alfred replies as he hops into the golf car and start its electric engine. “He’s currently camped out in your bedroom. There is a chicken pot pie in the kitchen for lunch if either of you are hungry.”

“We’ll wait for you.” Rachel replies, waving to Alfred before turning back towards her Lamborghini to retrieve her suitcase as her butler heads off down the Manor’s driveway. Once she’s got the small suitcase and has shut the car’s trunk she heads up through the halls of her ancestral home to the hallway which leads to both her and Dick’s bedrooms.

When she reaches the appropriate floor Rachel Wayne is not at all surprised to find the door to her bedroom open and Dick Grayson sprawled out diagonally across her bed, surrounded by newspaper and tabloids. She is slightly surprised that Ace, instead of being sprawled out on the bed at his young master’s side, is curled up in a surprisingly small ball on the dog bed at the base of her bed… which he’d only ever used when he was too small to get up on her bed and there was no one around to be coerced into helping him up.

“Anything good?” Rachel asks as she passes by the bed, tossing her small suitcase on to a section of the bed which is not occupied by either her adopted son or his veritable dragon’s hoard of newspapers and quickly bending down to scratch Ace behind his ears before she heads into walk in closet so that she can change out of her “Billionaire” outfit and into something more comfortable.

“Let’s see…” Dick mutters, hauling himself up into a seated position before rummaging through the papers spread around him. “Okay, so _The Daily Planet_ just had a little blurb on their society page—”

“There’ll be a bigger article in tomorrow’s _Planet_.” Rachel informs her adopted son as she closes the door to her closet behind her, leaving it open just enough that she can hear Dick and he can hear her without either of them needing to shout. “I gave them an interview on the way back so Clark’s coworkers wouldn’t kill him for not tipping them off.”

“So who’d you talk to?” Dick asks. “Lois? _Cat?_ ”

“No, Roland Toupe— he usually writes political editorials and covers demonstrations.” Rachel yawns. “We actually spent most of the interview talking about the Martha Wayne Foundation and the various charities Wayne Enterprises supports.”

“Okay— so there’s nothing worth talking about in the _Planet_ and while _The Gotham Gazette_ gave you like half of their gossip column it’s just… boring. No speculation, no crazy headlines…”

“So what about the less reputable papers you’ve decided to cover my bed with?”

“ _Action Bulletin News_ apparently thought that you and Jacob Burrel were like _seriously_ dating and so they’ve gone with ‘Jacob Burrel Crushed By Wayne’s Infedility’. On the other hand _The Central City Citizen_ is like, all for you and Clark dating— they went with ‘ Young, Rich & In Love!’ and for some reason decided to photoshop these kinda creepy cartoon hearts into the picture they used…”

“What about _The Tattler_?” Rachel asks as she steps out of her walk in closet, now clad in dark blue sweatpants and a black t-shirt with a white Wayne Enterprises logo on the front, which is a size or two too large and thus hangs off of her left shoulder.

“‘Rachel Wayne’s Wild Night In Metropolis!’ in which they swear that you bought Empirica, completely trashed your hotel room and were ‘seen in an intimate embrace’ at a night club.” Dick replies as he holds up the tabloid in question. “I like how the cover has your head photoshopped on someone else’s body but they didn’t photoshop Clark’s head in… they just kinda blurred the face a bit and put on _really_ fake looking glasses."

“I expected a better photoshop from _The Tattler_.” Rachel muses as she steps forward and takes the tabloid from Dick so that she can inspect the cover image. “… I think that they used a photograph of Dean Cain for this.”

“Okay, this is one of my favorites— _The Daily Star_ got this picture of you and Clark walking into Empirica that someone must have taken with their cell phone and decided to go with ‘New Ingénue For Wayne Heiress’.”

“… seriously? _Ingénue?_ ” Rachel asks, fighting to control her laughter as she takes the tabloid in question from Dick and quickly skims through the article attached to the rather… _odd_ headline.

“Yeah I don’t know what they were thinking.” Dick shrugs as he starts shuffling the papers into two piles— a small one which Rachel guesses is the “to keep” pile and a much larger one which is probably destined for the recycling bin now that they have been thoroughly inspected by the young man.

“Wait… where’s _The Gotham Globe?_ ” Rachel asks, setting aside _The Daily Star_ and rummaging through the pile of papers on her bed. “You know— the one that did that article on how I spent my ‘missing years’ hanging out with JFK and Elvis. I want to see how they spun this.”

“Well…” Dick stammers, awkwardly not meeting Rachel’s gaze and trying to nonchalantly shove several papers into a pile. “Oh, and _Weekly World News_ thinks that Aresia’s attack was part of an attempt by the Amazons to take over America which has been going on ever since the Civil Wa—”

“Dick.” Rachel sighs as Dick fumbles for the TV remove and calmly crosses her arms. “Where’s _The Gotham Globe?_ ”

Without saying a word Dick takes the paper in question out from underneath the papers he’d pushed on top of it in an attempt to hide the Gotham tabloid and hands it over to his adoptive mother. The first thing that catches Rachel’s eyes is not the headline, but the two large photographs which are underneath it. On the right is a photograph of her leaning on Clark and smiling as they leave Empirica, while on the left is a photograph of Dick which Rachel is pretty certain was taken either at his parent’s funeral or shortly afterwards, given the suit that her adopted son is wearing in said picture and the fact that he’s obviously been crying. That already is enough to get Rachel annoyed at _The Gotham Globe…_ but then she reads the _headline._

Is Grayson Safe? Man Hungry Heiress Raises Questions

Complete and utter silence falls in the bedroom and Dick Grayson finds himself half expecting the tabloid in his adoptive mother’s hands to spontaneously combust under the sheer intensity of the Billionaire’s glare as she reads the offending article.

“Mom?” Dick asks, scooting across the bed so that he is closer to Rachel. However he receives no reply, so Dick tries again. “Mom?”

“Who… who is this reporter?” Rachel growls in her Batwoman voice as she rips the paper in half and then proceeds to turn the two chunks of tabloid into confetti. “This… this _Fredric Wertham?_ ”

“Already dealt with.” Alfred Pennyworth replies as he steps into the bedroom, a metal tray in one hand and a manila folder in the other. The Wayne Family Butler calmly holds out the tray to Rachel, who deposits the shreds of the tabloid on it before taking the manila folder from Alfred. “Lunch is ready in the kitchen.”

“Thank you Alfred.” Rachel smiles as she opens the manila folder and starts perusing it’s contents even as she starts walking towards the Manor’s kitchen, with Alfred, Dick and Ace following close behind her.

“What… what’s going on?” Dick asks Alfred in a low voice, glancing back and forth between Rachel and Alfred… who has taken the metal tray with it’s tabloid confetti with him as if this whole insanity is _normal_.

“Prior to joining the staff of _The Gotham Globe_ Mr. Wertham was an investigative journalist for _The Blüdhaven News_ who ‘solved’ an infamous cold case— his articles caused the police to reopen the case. He even testified in the eventual court trial.”

“So why is this calming mom down?” Dick asks, raising one eyebrow.

“Because right before the court case began Mr. Wertham found out that the man he accused of the murder had an air tight alibi… and instead of admitting his mistakes he suppressed that information, allowing an innocent man to go to prison for life.” Alfred explains. “I have, of course, sent the information to the usual people.”

“Good work Alfred.” Rachel smiles, closing the manila folder and depositing it on the kitchen counter before moving to retrieve plates and glasses so the three of them can have lunch.

“Usual people?” Dick asks, grabbing cutlery and napkins as Alfred puts a pitcher of water on the table of the booth where the three of them had dinner with Clark not two days ago.

“I don’t mind _that_ much when tabloids go after me.” Rachel explains as she helps her son set the table while Alfred retrieves the chicken pot pie he’d cooked earlier— which has already been cut into so that the Butler could serve the officers at the Manor’s gates. “I’m used to it and… well it helps keep things divided. After all no one is likely to think that someone who has spent a ‘wild night in Metropolis’ is Batwoman. But I won’t stand by and allow reporters to slander those I care about.”

“So what, all reporters are guilty of something?”

“No— in this case the ‘usual’ people are the same people we send information too when their crimes go beyond that which can be solved by a nighttime visit from Batwoman and Robin... with the addition of local reporters who _don’t_ work for _The Gotham Globe_.” Rachel explains as Alfred places the chicken pot pie on the table in front of them and sits down opposite them. “Usually I just sic my lawyers on them.”

“… in that case Wertham might be getting off easy.” Dick mutters, drawing a smile from both adults. “So are you gonna go out as Matches tonight?”

“I don’t think so.” Rachel sighs as she pours herself a glass of water. “Matches isn’t very effective on gathering information on the Joker and Harley Quinn.”

“So we’re just going on a normal patrol tonight?”

“Unless Gordon calls, our computer programs turn up anything… or the League calls.”

“Can I patrol solo?” Dick asks. “Er—I mean where we do the separate patrols close enough for us to team up if something goes wrong?”

“Sure, but Alfred’s going to be monitoring you.”

“Cool.” Dick smiles. “I enjoy getting snarky British commentary with my nightly dose of crime fighting.”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about Master Grayson.” Alfred replies with a perfectly straight face as he starts clearing the table.

“Sure Alfred. _Sure._ ” Dick laughs before turning towards his adoptive mother. “So… what now?”

“I need to check on a few things for Wayne Enterprises.” Rachel replies, reaching down to pet Ace. “It shouldn’t take me too long.”

“So I’ll amuse myself while you do that… and then we can spar?” Dick asks. “I’ve got this acrobatic move that I think could work for crimefighting…”

“Sure— I’ll come find you when I’m done.” Rachel replies, before she heads off to take a closer look at Competitron, while Dick stays behind to help Alfred with the dishes generated both by their own lunch and by the cooking that the Wayne Family Butler had done for the officers stationed at the gates of the Manor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes:
> 
> Metropolis and Gotham have a tendency to... well move in comics, at least when it comes to their geographical location. While Gotham is usually "on the East coast around New York, probably somewhere in New Jersey" Metropolis has been everywhere from "just across the bay from Gotham" to "somewhere in Kansas which is about a three hour drive from Smallville".
> 
> So, for the purposes of this fanfiction and without all that much thought I have decided that Metropolis is in southern Delaware, near the border with Maryland and Gotham is in New Jersey, somewhere near where the Great Bay is in real life. (Basically right where Great Bay is, but Gotham is on the Gotham River instead of being on the Mullica River)
> 
> I’m somewhat using this map (http://matthewkadish.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/06/gc5_large.jpg) for my version of Gotham. The main differences being the location of Arkham Asylum, Blackgate Prision and the existence of the Narrows. Arkham Asylum is located on an island to the north-east of Gotham. (If you look at that pic it would be to the east of the north end of the Robert Kane Memorial Bridge) and Blackgate Prision is located somewhere north on the Gotham River (so north of the Moony Bridge.) The Narrows (a la Batman Begins) are where Arkham Asylum is located on that map. Oh and Blüdhaven is on the coast almost directly south from Gotham.
> 
> By somewhat using that map I mean that I use it when I remember to do so. If you notice any slip-ups I’ve made and point them out then I’ll do my best to fix them. Perhaps at some point I’ll photoshop up my own map.
> 
> Now for all the refrences in this chapter!
> 
> The Miagani Tribe (Native Americans who inhabited the Gotham area) come straight out of DC Comics. They were also known the “Bat-people” because they revered Bats, to the point where in some comics they actually like sleep hanging upside down.
> 
> Infantino Avenue is a reference to Carmine Michael Infantino, an artist and editor who was a major force in the Silver Age of DC Comics and helped create several characters… and one of those characters is going to show up in the near future.
> 
> The stalker who tries to break into Wayne Enterprises— Mr. Schumacher— is a reference to Joel Schumacher, Director of Batman Forever and Batman & Robin.
> 
> Donovan Street is a reference to Lawrence Donovan. Commissioner James Gordon was based on / named after a character (“The Whisperer” aka Commissioner James W. “Wildcat” Gordon) from a radio program he wrote.
> 
> All but one of the companies which Lucius and Rachel talk about are made up with the help of random business name generators. The one which isn’t made up comes from Batman – The Animated Series and hints at a character who is going to be showing up in the near future.
> 
> This is the Rolls Royce Black Phantom (http://cdn.bmwblog.com/wp-content/uploads/Rolls-Royce-Phantom-Black-1-lg.jpg) which Alfred drives when he’s chauffeuring Rachel and Dick around and this is its interior. (http://www.signaturecarhire.co.uk/blog/wp-content/gallery/phantom/rolls-royce-phantom-black-interior-back-seats.jpg)
> 
> This is a Jaguar F-Type S (http://ag-spots-2014.o.auroraobjects.eu/2014/09/08/jaguar-f-type-s-coupe-c413308092014165240_2.jpg) and this is it’s interior. (http://image.automotive.com/f/truck-reviews-1308-2014-jaguar-f-type-v8-s-first-test/55240465/2014-jaguar-f-type-v8-s-interiorjpg.jpg)
> 
> This is a Yamaha Star Bolt. (http://motorcycles.axlegeeks.com/sites/default/files/778/media/images/2014_Yamaha_Star_Bolt_838829.jpg)
> 
> The “family/cult of angry homophobes” is a reference to the “Most Hated Family In America”— the Westboro Baptist Church, who are infamous for their “God Hates Fags” signs and protesting outside military funerals.
> 
> Roland Toupe is a reporter for The Daily Planet in various Superman comics. He even got mentioned a few times and got a brief cameo on Smallville and an episode of Superman The Animated Series and Justice League Unlimited.
> 
> I forgot to keep track but I'm pretty sure that all the papers mentioned in Rachel and Dick's conversation are "real" as in they come from various DC Comics / movies. The one exception I do know is Weekly World News which is a real tabloid, although I think it’s only available online now.
> 
> Dean Cane played Superman in Lois & Clark: The New Adventures Of Superman. I highly recommend the show because it is the only live action adaption of Superman which managed to make Clark’s “disguise” actually seem like something which would work.
> 
> The Gotham Globe Fredric Wertham is a reference to the author of "Seduction of the Innocent" a book published in 1954 which claimed comic books were a cause of juvenile delinquency and lead to the establishment of the Comic Code Authority. Famously/Infamously the book also claimed that Batman and Robin were gay partners and that Superman was an un-American fascist.


	49. Non Compos Mentis

_Non Compos Mentis = Latin for “Not Of Sound Mind”_

A cool breeze is blowing into Gotham from the Atlantic Ocean, chasing away the lingering heat of the day and causing Batwoman’s cape to trail out behind her as she crouches on the edge of an apartment complex’s rooftop and cocks her head to once side, listening intently to the sounds of the city around her. The Dark Knight is patrolling the Burnley side of Crime Alley while Robin does the same some three or four blocks to the East on the Crime Alley side of Burnley and is about to call and check in on her “squire” when she hears the unmistakable sound of glass breaking. Without a second’s hesitation Batwoman throws herself off the apartment building and starts grappling and gliding towards the source of the sound— which ends up being a small 24/7 convenience store whose front door has been shattered by two armed thugs who are now threatening the clerk.

Taking care to stay out of view of both the robbers and the terrified clerk the Dark Knight lands silently on the sidewalk just down the street (and thus out of view) of the store and darts forwards in a low crouch. As she approaches the shattered front door of the store she pulls two batarangs out of the pouch on her utility belt and— after taking a deep breath— hurls the projectiles into the store. As the batarang slam into wrists of the two criminals the taller of the two— a man with dirty blond hair and a beard that is more stubble then beard— screams in pain and drops his gun, while his accomplice— a woman with long black hair— manages to hold on to her gun despite the pain of the batarang hitting her wrist. While grimacing in pain the woman turns towards the door of the convenience store… and the Dark Knight’s fist slams into her face, knocking her out and ensuring that when she does wake up she’ll be in possession of a rather spectacular black eye.

After seeing his female accomplice go down like a sack of potatoes the male criminal wisely surrenders without a second’s hesitation, scrambling away from where his gun has fallen and throwing his hands up. Batwoman handcuffs the man and quickly pats him down before doing the same to the unconscious female companion. Once the two are secured she quickly secures the two’s weapons, which she slips into evidence bags before placing on the top of the store’s front counter for the police to collect.

“Are you okay?” Batwoman asks, turning her attention to the store’s clerk— a middle aged woman with shoulder length dreadlocks who is shaking slightly as she stares at the guns resting on the counter in front of her.

“Knew I shouldn’t have taken this job.” The woman sighs as her gaze moves over to the store’s shattered front door. “My kid’s gonna freak.”

“Maybe this will help.” Batwoman can hear the sound of police sirens drawing near as she reaches into one of the smaller pockets in her utility belt and pulls out a business card for one of the Wayne Enterprises may subsidiaries and offers it to the clerk. “They’re hiring.”

“I don’t have my GED.” The clerk replies as she reaches out to hesitantly take the card from the Dark Knight.

“They’ll help you get one.” Batwoman replies as she turns and starts heading towards the store’s entrance as the first police car screeches to a stop in front of the store and two officers all but spring out, only to awkwardly sort of skid to a halt as they see Batwoman step over the smashed glass of the store’s front door, only to glance back at the clerk as she gets her grappling hook out. “Call them.”

“I will. Thanks.” The clerk smiles as she puts the business card into her pocket as the Dark Knight shoots her grappling hook and heads off into the Gotham night to continue her patrol. As she makes her way over the rooftops, heading south towards the Bowery and Sprang Inlet, Batwoman activates the com-link built into her cowl.

“HQ? I’m heading into the Bowery now— I was delayed by an attempted robbery on Taylor Street.” The Dark Knight informs Alfred Pennyworth, who is in the cave underneath Wayne Manor, monitoring the computer programs searching for the Joker and keeping an eye on Robin. “I need you to get the clerk’s name.”

“Trouble Miss Wayne?”

“No— I gave her a card.”

“Ah, I see.” Alfred replies and, in the background of the call, Rachel can hear the sound of the Wayne Family Butler typing on the Batcomputer’s keyboard. “I’ll locate her information and forward it to HR through the usual channels.”

“How’s Robin doing?”

“Master Grayson is currently in the process of handing a mugger over to the police… the man made the mistake of laughing when a ‘kid’ told him to surrender.”

“I guarantee he won’t make _that_ mistake again.” Batwoman can’t help but smile as she remembers a similar incident which she’d had the _pleasure_ of witnessing.

“Yes and he will undoubtedly be rather sore tomorrow.” Alfred replies. “Will that be all Miss?”

“Has the computer come up with anything?”

“Nothing more than a few orders placed by legitimate companies who have agreed to allow the police to keep a close eye on said chemicals…” Alfred trails off and pauses for a second. “Speaking of the police, we’re receiving a call from the Commissioner.”

“Put him through— and patch the call through to Robin.” Batwoman replies, pausing momentarily on her trek across the rooftops of Gotham, her eyes drifting towards the south, where Gotham Police Headquarters is obscured by the high rise buildings of the Upper East Side and the Diamond District. “Commissioner?”

“Scarface’s goons just invaded one of the Sullivan Family’s nightclubs.” In the background of Commissioner Gordon’s side of the phone call Batwoman can hear the familiar sounds of Gordon’s men preparing to move out en masse. “A waitress managed to hide in a storeroom and called 911— she says the Ventriloquist is there.”

“Which club?”

The Sullivan Family had largely stopped any sort of “criminal” activities by the time that Rachel returned to Gotham— most of their money came from the various clubs, bars and restaurants they owned, although there were rumors that they were involved in more discrete criminal activities. Because of this Batwoman hadn’t really encountered the Sullivan Family… until some three months ago when they did _something_ (Batwoman wasn’t sure what exactly) that had royally pissed off Scarface. Ever since then the puppet and the mob family had been fighting— though most of those fights had been small spats between lesser members of the two gangs. The fact that Scarface “himself” was now getting involved in an all out attack on one of the Sullivan Family’s businesses was… worrying.

“Place called ‘Nerve’ on the corner of Flint and Kingsman.”

“We’re on our way Commissioner.” The Dark Knight replies as she leaps off the edge of the building which she was standing on and fires off her grappling hook.

“So are we— I’ve got the local precinct securing the area.” Gordon replies, his voice echoing as he (most likely) heads into the garage underneath the Gotham Police Headquarters towards a squad car. “See you there.”

“We’ll keep you informed of our movements.”Batwoman promises as she ends the call but keeps the line open to Alfred and Robin. “HQ—”

“I am pulling up the building plans as we speak and should have access to Nerve’s security cameras as we speak.”

“Robin— head towards Nerve _._ I’ll catch up with you en route.”

“Only cause you’ve got stupid long legs.” The younger hero mock grumbles, drawing a smirk from his mentor as Alfred Pennyworth helpfully displays Robin’s position on the projector which displays on the lenses of the Dark Knight’s cowl. “So you still have no idea what Wesker’s beef with the Sullivans is?”

Arnold Wesker— aka “The Ventriloquist”— had been a seemingly normal and sane ventriloquist who had bounced around between working comedy clubs, kid’s tv shows and birthday parties, making just enough to get by. But then a drunken bar room brawl— which should have ended in _Wesker_ being hospitalized— resulted in the accidental death of his equally drunk opponent. Arnold Wesker had been sentenced to a year in Blackgate Penitentiary and ended up sharing a cell with a man named Donnegan… and the ventriloquist dummy which Donnegan had carved from the prison’s old gallows.

One morning— shortly after Batwoman had captured the Joker and hauled him off to Arkham for the first time— Donnegan was found dead in his cell, with Arnold Wesker and the puppet nowhere to be seen. Two weeks later Arnold Wesker had walked into one of the comedy clubs he’d worked at before his imprisonment and proceeded to rob the place, while Wesker acted like the ventriloquist dummy was the one in charge calling the shots.

“I don’t know for sure.” Batwoman admits with a sigh. “But I’d be willing to bet that a member of the Sullivan Family called Scarface a dummy— or some similar ‘insult’.”

“… you’d think they’d know better.” Robin mutters and the Dark Knight can almost picture him shaking his head as he makes his way across Gotham’s rooftops.

After their debut at the comedy club Arnold Wesker and “Scarface” had continued robbing businesses that Wesker had worked for pre-Blackgate. The first time that Batwoman had encountered the strange duo was when they had taken their first foray into home invasion and had the misfortune of choosing the one former customer of Wesker’s who had a halfway decent security system installed. The system brought the police and when the cops found themselves confronted with a man whose _puppet_ had a machine gun they’d called in Batwoman.

“Criminals never learn.” Batwoman replies as she catches a glimpse of Robin swinging between too buildings with his grappling hook. “After all, just think of how many crooks think it’s a good idea to try and ridicule the _Joker_.”

“… good point.” Robin replies as he falls into “step” beside the Dark Knight as the two head on to the McCafferty Bridge, which connects Burnley to Coventry by way of the eastern tip of the Narrows and is all but deserted. “So what’s the plan?”

Following their first encounter Arnold Wesker had gone to Arkham where he received a diagnosis of dissociative identity disorder from the staff and the name “the Ventriloquist” from the other inmates. After a few months Wesker had “destroyed” Scarface and was pronounced sane enough to be allowed out on parole… where he retrieved Scarface from wherever he’d been stashed by whoever smuggled him out of Arkham and started building up a gang of his own.

“Depends on what the situation is inside the club…” Batwoman sighs. “HQ, do you have access to Nerve’s security cameras?”

“Yes— though the quality and quantity of said cameras leaves much to be desired.” Alfred Pennyworth replies over the comlink. “Scarface is traveling rather light for a Gotham criminal… I’m only counting five criminals, including Mr. Wesker. They appear to be holding some twenty-five hostages— in addition to the waitress who called the police. I believe four are employees and the rest are patrons of the club.”

“Any known members of the Sullivan Family among the hostages?” The Dark Knight asks her oldest friend.

“Just one.”

“Let me guess— club’s bouncer?” Robin asks.

“No, one of the patrons.” Alfred Pennyworth remarks. “A young woman by the name of Clarice _Sullivan_.”

“ _Sullivan_?” Robin blinks. “So she’s what, the head of the Sullivan Family’s daughter?”

“Granddaughter actually.” Batwoman replies as she catches sight of flashing lights from the police cars which are keeping Scarface and his gang from leaving the nightclub. “And I’m willing to bet _she’s_ the reason Scarface decided to invade that club— HQ where is she?”

“Cowering in a booth with several other hostages— it appears the police arrived before Scarface’s minions could separate her from the other patrons.” The Wayne Family Butler informs the two. “I have the building plans if you’re ready for them.”

“We are, go ahead.” Batwoman replies as she and Robin land on the rooftop of one of the buildings directly across the street from the besieged night club and Alfred Pennyworth displays the blueprints— along with indicators of what he is seeing on Nerve’s security cameras— on the lenses of the Dark Knight’s cowl and her Squire’s domino mask.

The building in which Nerve was located had once been a small movie theater— the lower level had been converted into a dance floor, with a few booths and tables around the sides, while the main bar was located where the lobby’s snack counter had been. The small stage in front of where the movie screen (which was now a large mural of sorts, with various neon lights) was now home to the club’s DJ and the small balcony like second story had been turned into a sort of VIP area— which had apparently been unoccupied when Scarface’s goons stormed the club.

“How about the fire door that leads into the VIP area?” Robin suggests, turning slightly towards his mentor as Batwoman directs her attention towards the suggested entry point with a pair of binoculars she’s taken form a pocket of her utility belt. “You’ve got a gadget to kill the alarm right?”

“Yes— but we aren’t going to need it.” Batwoman replies as she hands the binoculars over to Robin so that he too can inspect the door in question, which opens on to the roof of the building next to Nerve where a rusted metal ladder provides access to a nearby alley. “See the cigarette buts by the door?”

“One’s still smoking…” Robin notes before handing the binoculars back to the Dark Knight. “So someone’s been there recently— employee disabled the alarm so they could smoke?”

“Or so the VIPs could.” Batwoman nods. “That’s our entrance. We’ll sneak in and take Scarface’s gang down before they know what’s hit them.”

“Scarface, the Ventriloquist and five thugs verses the two of us… hardly seems fair— _for them_.” Robin smirks, drawing a soft chuckle from his mentor as she straightens up and fires off her grappling hook so that she can cross the distance between the roof they are on and the fire door the upper level of Nerve, with the younger hero following close behind her.

The two land on the roof beside the fire door and— after a quick inspection by Batwoman to ensure that the alarm has been disabled— the two silently slip inside Nerve and make their way across the deserted VIP area to the railing so that they can see what is happening on the club floor below them.

The dance floor below is covered in shattered glass, which appears to have been shot out of the various lights overhead. Amidst this glass Arnold Wesker meekly “follows” Scarface as the puppet appears to stalk back and forth, all the while gesturing wildly with his Tommy gun. The Ventriloquist— who is wearing a shabby tuxedo with a somewhat limp bowtie and almost comically thick round glasses— looks like he is right on the verge of sweating profusely and perhaps crying, while Scarface— despite being a wooden puppet incapable of moving “his” face— appears to be snarling.

As always, Scarface looks like a stereotypical 1920s gangster— black and white pinstripe suit, matching fedora, a (wooden) cigar that looks like it is about to fall out of his mouth and a to-scale Tommy gun… which he appears to have used to shoot out the overhead light on the dance floor, either to intimidate his hostages when his gang burst into the club or in a fit of rage when the police had shown up. As Batwoman and Robin watch the puppet _snarls_ at Wesker, blaming the Ventriloquist for the police showing up and trapping his gang inside of Nerve.

The Ventriloquist takes Scarface’s verbal abuse with the usual amount of whimpering, while their minions remain (mostly) focused on their hostages— who are clustered around the bar and the two booths nearest to it, mostly silent but occasionally whimpering. From time to time the five gun wielding thugs which Scarface had brought with him will glance away from the hostages, either to look at Wesker and Scarface or to the glass front doors of the night club, through which flashing police lights can be clearly seen and not much else thanks to the headlights of said police cars.

“I’ll take the left and the hostages, you take the right and Scarface?” Robin suggests as he glances down at the four thugs and their hostages.

“Agreed.” Batwoman replies. “HQ, keep Gordon informed.”

“Of course miss.” Alfred Pennyworth promises as Batwoman and Robin move into position— the Dark Knight places herself above the two criminals near the booths while her Squire places himself above the two criminals near the bar. Batwoman slowly straightens up and places her hands on the railing at the edge of Nerve’s VIP area while Robin silently hauls himself up on top of said railing and waits for his mentor’s signal.

As Batwoman silently watches Scarface and the Ventriloquist pace back and forth across the dance floor she slowly raises her right hand and— when Wesker and his puppet are in just the right position she signals Robin to move by dropping her raised hand. As her squire throws himself forward, all but dive bombing the two criminals at the bar, the Dark Knight vaults over the railing, taking out the two criminals at the booths in the blink of an eye before racing over towards the Ventriloquist and Scarface.

Batwoman is roughly halfway across the dance floor— and Robin is just starting to secure the now unconscious members of Scarface’s gang— when she is forced to all but throw herself sideways to avoid being riddled with bullets from the puppets miniature Tommy gun.

“Well what’d ya know— it’s the Bat and the brat!” Scarface cackles as the Dark Knight scrambles to her feet and heads towards the far end of the night club, drawing both attention and bullets away from the hostages— so that Robin can get them out of the club and safely outside with the fine members of the Gotham Police Department. Thankfully— despite _mentioning_ Robin when he started shooting— Scarface seems to be entirely focused on gunning down the Dark Knight.

Despite the size and general toy-like appearance of Scarface’s Tommy gun, it is a fully functional weapon… which is basically “mounted” on the puppet’s left hip and fired via a trigger located inside the puppet next to mechanism which allows the Ventriloquist to operate Scarface’s mouth. The placement of this gun tends to throw off Arnold Wesker’s aim (which to be honest isn’t all that good to begin with) especially when he’s trying to shoot at a moving target… and his aim only gets worse when Scarface starts demanding that Wesker “GET HER” because now the Ventriloquist is trying to shoot the Tommy gun, manipulate Scarface as he spews abuse _and_ fire off his own handgun all at the same time.

So it isn’t exactly surprising that— in the midst of all this multitasking— Arnold Wesker not only fails to hit Batwoman but also fails to notice Robin helping the hostages escape. However it’s not exactly easy for the Dark Knight to stay ahead of Scarface’s bullets… after all, the fact that she needs to keep the Ventriloquist and his puppet’s attention away from the hostages means that Batwoman doesn’t have _that_ much room to dodge… and is quickly running out of room behind her as well.

“What’s the matter dummy?” Scarface cackles as Batwoman dives behind the club’s DJ booth to avoid his Tommy gun. “Did ya think I’d fold like some two bit thug?”

“No.” Robin smirks as he slides across the floor, ending up in front of Arnold Wesker where he kicks up, knocking Scarface out of the older man’s arms. “We thought we’d cut your strings!”

The Ventriloquist cries out in pain and stumbles back, clutching at his left hand which has just been painfully pulled out of the puppet, which now rests on the floor. Before Wesker can reach out for his “boss” Robin kicks Scarface like some kind of misshaped soccer ball, sending the puppet sailing through the air towards the DJ booth, where Batwoman nonchalantly catches it with one hand.

Arnold Wesker all but lunges towards the Dark Knight, only to stop short as she presses a batarang against Scarface’s neck and puts on her best threatening face. Instantly a stream of filth and abuse (directed at both Batwoman and Wesker) starts pouring out of the puppet’s unmoving lips while the Ventriloquist falls to his knees, tears streaming down his face as he pleads for Batwoman to spare his boss’s life.

Meanwhile the Gotham Police are all but pouring into the night club, escorting the last few hostages out and hauling the four members of Scarface’s gang— who are only now starting to come around from being knocked unconscious by Batwoman and Robin— off to a police van which the Dark Knight can see is parked just outside of Nerve’s front doors. A somewhat haggard looking Renee Montoya smiles at Robin as she steps forward to handcuff Arnold Wesker, while the young hero makes his way over to his mentor, who hands him Scarface before allowing her cape to close around her— as she usually does when talking to the police at a crime scene.

“Supes is right.” Robin muses as he examines the puppet while Officer Montoya hauls the Ventriloquist to his feet and drags him off towards the police van, just as Commissioner Gordon strides into the club, a bullet proof vest visible beneath his usual trench coat and a young male officer whom neither Robin nor Batwoman recognizes at his side. “Gotham is weird.”

“Remind me to get Superman to tell you about Mister Mxyxptlk…” Batwoman mutters as she heads across the night club towards James Gordon with Robin following close behind her. “Commissioner.”

“Batwoman, Robin.” Gordon replies, exchanging a curt nod of greeting with the Dark Knight and offer a small almost completely hidden smile to her Squire. “Mason— take that… _puppet_ to Forensics, will you?”

“Certainly sir.” The young officer replies, accepting Scarface from Robin with only momentary hesitation before heading off towards the front doors of the nightclub.

“Haven’t seen him around before.” Batwoman remarks as she watches the young officer walk away from them.

“Gill Mason— just transferred over from Blüdhaven.” James Gordon replies. “He’s good… at the rate he’s going he’ll be Detective before the year’s out.”

“You trust him?” Robin asks as he looks up at the Police Commissioner. It’s no secret that most of Blüdhaven’s police are as crooked and dirty as they come.

“I’m starting to.” The Commissioner sighs as he glances around the wrecked nightclub. “All this… and Wesker will probably be pronounced sane before the month’s out.”

“Then we have a month without Scarface and his gangs terrorizing Gotham.” Batwoman replies with the slightest shrug of her shoulders. “Small victories Commissioner.”

“Small victories.” Gordon agrees, his gaze drifting over to where his officers are starting to haul Scarface’s goons out of the club before he starts turning back towards the two heroes. “You two take ca—”

Gotham’s Police Comissioner trails off as he realizes that he’s standing alone in the trashed nightclub, with Batwoman and Robin nowhere to be seen. With a soft noise that is somewhere between a resigned sigh and a muffled chuckle James Gordon shakes his head and heads off towards the doors of the nightclub, where a TV news van has just pulled to a screeching halt.


	50. Scorta Erratica

_Scorta Erratica = Latin for “Street Walkers”_

 

There’s a mild but persistent breeze blowing into Gotham from the dark waters of the Atlantic Ocean, but thanks to the placement of the city’s buildings most of Gotham’s inhabitants are not benefiting from the breeze and are instead relying upon air conditioning or strategically placed fans to beat the heat, while spending as little time outside as possible. To the north of the city that same sea breeze wraps around the cars of the reporters camped outside of the Wayne Estate, makes its way through the trees surrounding the home and into the open windows of the mansion’s kitchen.

Alfred Pennyworth stands in front of one of those windows, concentrating on the counter in front of him where he is piecing together two sandwiches while Ace— who is sitting at the butler’s feet— watches intently for any falling scraps, his tail wagging back and forth on the kitchen tile. Alfred places each sandwich on a separate plate and sets those plates on to matching serving trays, each of which already hold a glass of water and a small pitcher of water with ice and thin slices of lemon. As the Wayne Family Butler cleans up the kitchen counter Ace’s patience is rewarded with a few scraps of meat which he quickly devours before following Alfred— who is easily holding a tray in each arm— out of the kitchen, up a servant staircase and through the hallways of Wayne Manor.

The first stop for the Butler and the dog is the Manor’s Library, where Richard Grayson leans against the arm of one of the couches with an old paperback copy of The Hobbit in his lap and a few worksheets, lined paper and pencils on the coffee table in front of him. The young acrobat is all but asleep and, after placing the trays on the coffee table alongside the boy’s homework, Alfred Pennyworth picks up the book before it can slip off his young charge’s lap, marks the boy’s place and sets it too on the coffee table. Dick mumbles something nonsensical as Alfred maneuvers him into a more comfortable sleeping position before finally subcoming to the lazy summer day and falling asleep as Ace hops up on the couch and rests his head on the young hero’s leg.

With Richard Grayson tended to Alfred Pennyworth picks up one of the two covered trays which he’d set down before tending to the boy and— leaving both Dick and Ace behind— he heads towards one of the many secret doors which lead from the Manor above to the Cave below.

The Batcave is comfortably cool and the air, while not stale, is almost entirely still save for the near constant shifting of the bats high above the platforms and ledges which make up the part of the cave which the humans use. Most of the cave’s lights have been left unlit, so that most of the light in the cave come from the various screens of the Cave’s computer, with a distant second source being the safety lights which mark the edges of the platforms and ledges.

Rachel Antoinette Wayne, dressed in faded jeans and a black wife-beater, is seated in front of that computer, her elbows resting on the desk, her fingers steepled and her lips pressed lightly against her index fingers as she stares at the numerous screens which make up her cave’s computer. Although the Billionaire is obviously aware of Alfred Pennyworth’s arrival in the Cave, she does not visibly or verbally react to her oldest friend’s presence until he places his tray on the computer desk to her right and picks up the small pitcher of water on said tray. As Alfred silently fills the glass with water from the pitcher the Dark Knight turns ever so slightly towards him, looks down at the sandwich, looks back up at the butler and silently raises one eyebrow.

“This is a sandwich. Eat it.” Alfred remarks, his face perfectly expressionless in the way that only the face of a well trained and very experienced butler can be. With a sigh Rachel reaches over and picks up the sandwich as the Wayne Family Butler inspects the computer screens which his employer had been staring at so intently. “Anything new?”

“No.” Rachel mutters, shaking her head in order to get her hair out of her face before she takes another bite of her sandwich. “It’s like the Joker just vanished into thin air…”

Before the Dark Knight can say anything else she is cut off by her cell phone ringing. Placing the sandwich back on it’s plate Rachel reaches into the pocket of her jeans and pulls out the phone, pausing for a second so that she can read the caller ID. Alfred— who has been watching his employer’s actions with one eyebrow ever so slightly raised, sees the faintest of smiles appear on his employers face and follows her gaze down to confirm that the caller ID says _Clark_. As Rachel answers the call Alfred Pennyworth silently excuses himself and starts making his way back up into the Wayne Manor.

“So I submitted my resume to _The Gotham Gazette_ like ten minutes ago…” Rachel can practically _feel_ Clark Kent’s smile and, without being entirely conscious of her actions, she leans back in her computer chair, an invisible weight lifting off her shoulders as she lets her boy— as she lets the reporter’s voice wash over her, chasing all thoughts of the Joker from her mind. “… and I’ve already gotten a personalized conformation that they received it.”

“Well then it’s a good thing I’ve located an apartment for you.” Rachel replies before she can stop herself.

“You’re… you’re not serious.” Clark stutters and Rachel flinches slightly. It’s only been _four days_ since they agreed to help carry each other’s baggage, it’s only been _three_ days since their first date and— “That’s… that’s actually a huge relief because I _suck_ at finding apartments.”

“I… I don’t know.” Rachel stammers. “Your current one isn’t that bad— bit small.”

“Says the woman who lives in a Mansion.” Clark replies and Rachel chuckles as she leans back in her chair. “But yeah— the only time I found an apartment on my own I ended up having to sleep on the ceiling to escape the rats… I only found my current apartment because Lois used to live in the building. So where in Gotham is this apartment you’ve found?”

“It’s on the Upper East Side— near the Novick Tunnel.” The Dark Knight informs the Man of Steel. “It’s just across the Finger River from Gotham University… far enough away that you’re unlikely to have any college students in the building. A subsidiary of Wayne Enterprises is renovating several neighborhoods around Gotham in order to improve the city— no one will notice if one apartment in one building is a little… _different_ from the others.”

“Different?”

“I’ve taken the liberty of including a hidden compartment for your suits and ensuring that your apartment has discrete access to the building’s roof.”

“So it’s on the top floor?”

“No, it’s actually three floors away from the roof, on the fifth floor.” Rachel replies. “The building was originally a hotel and when we started renovation we uncovered a laundry chute which had been walled up several years ago… instead of removing it entirely I had it modified into a Super-chute.”

“A Super-chute?” Clark asks, his laughter drawing a soft chuckle from Rachel. “My mom will _love_ that… um— I went to see her the other night.”

“So how… how’d that go?” Rachel asks, trying her best not to betray how nervous she suddenly feels.

“She’s really looking forward to meeting you.” Clark replies. “The fact that you know I’m Superman helps— Mom thinks I’m at least semi-decent at knowing who to trust with my identity.”

“Let me guess, she thinks that you revealed your identity to me?” Rachel asks, wondering what Martha Kent’s reaction would be if Clark had told her that the Gotham Billionaire had figured Superman’s identity out on her own.

“Yes— I’d told Mom about you before in very general terms, so she thinks your Batwoman’s employer, or at least the money behind the Bat.” Clark explains.

“Well that’s understandable… and it’s what the majority of the Justice League believes.” Rachel remarks with a shrug as, once again, she finds herself wanting to give Clark permission to tell his mother her secret. “So what did you tell her?”

“I suspected you were Batwoman’s backer, so when I heard that she’d been shot I went to Wayne Manor to ensure that she was okay.” Clark explains. “We ended up staying in contact and I told you my real name after you Dick arrived… when I got hit by Aresia’s spell I realized I wanted something more and you felt the same. I’m sorry I—”

“No, it’s okay!” Rachel quickly cuts Clark off. “It’s… it’s a good story. So when do I get to met her?”

“Either this Saturday or Sunday— whatever works better for you.” Clark explains as Rachel brings up the calendar on the Cave’s computer. “Mom usually does dinner around 6 or 6:30.”

Her calendar is rather bare— thanks in large part to her recent kidnapping by Mr. Freeze allowing / forcing a reduction in her public appearances by Rachel Wayne. All she has is a ground breaking ceremony in one of Gotham’s suburbs on Wednesday and a check in with Lucius Fox on Thursday. Most of the notes on the calendar are related to her nocturnal life— there was a note indicating that she should check in with the working girls in the Bowery tonight and on other days there are notes outlining where she and Robin plan to patrol.

The only notes on Saturday and Sunday are patrol plans, which are more suggestions then real plans and thus easily modified to allow her to have dinner with Clark and Martha Kent… Rachel is about to say Saturday— on the theory of getting this done with sooner rather than later even if there’s only a day’s difference between the two— but then she sees the two hours which have been blocked off late Friday evening and knows that there’s a good chance she won’t be in any condition to see anyone, let alone her boy… let alone Clark’s mom after observing _that_ anniversary

“Sunday.” Rachel decides, adding ‘Dinner in Smallville’ to her calendar. “Sunday works for me.”

“I’ll tell Mom.” Clark practically whispers and, as the two fall into a strangely comfortable silence, the Dark Knight finds herself focusing in on the background noise— both on her end of the line and on Clark’s. She can hear the bats moving in the darkness above her, while the underground river rushes over rocks in the darkness beneath. On Clark’s end she can hear the sound of wind whipping around the Man of Steel and the usual sounds of a busy city— including the sound of a helicopter’s blades— faintly in the background.

“Where are you?”

“Having lunch on the roof of the Daily Planet.” Clark replies. “It’s a slow day— haven’t had to speed-sneak out yet.”

“So how are your coworkers reacting to… to all this?”

“Why do you think I’m having lunch on the roof?” Clark laughs. “Well… not too bad? Lois is still in shock that ‘someone like me’ managed to snare Gotham’s most eligible bachelorette, Cat swings between being pissed off that I didn’t tell her ahead of time so she could get the scoop and trying to convince me to do some sort of couples interview—”

“What on earth is _that_?”

“I have no idea.” The Last Son of Krypton admits. “Jimmy keeps asking me to set him up with one of your ‘friends’, Perry hasn’t said anything ever since your interview with Toupe and everyone else is… well mostly staring, though a few of the guys tried to high five me after they found out. What about on your end?”

“Well… there are more reporters outside the gates than usual. One man from _Action Bulletin News_ actually tried to sneak in, but his coat got stuck on the fence and we ended up having to call the fire department to get him down.” Rachel smiles at the laughter this story draws from Clark. “But Dick and I have only been off the grounds at night, so our encounters with the press have been limited to them trying to get a rise out of Alfred—”

“Is that even possible?”

“Yes— but it takes a rare and endangered breed of slimy reporter.”

“Endangered because of the Dark Knight?”

“No, endangered because of my lawyers.” Rachel replies with a smirk but, before the Dark Knight can say anything else, she is cut off by noise on Clark’s end of the line. She can hear the sound of a heavy metal door being pushed open so hard that it slams against a wall and the familiar voice of Lois Lane yelling for ‘Smallville’ to get his ass moving. “Looks like your lunch is over.”

“Sure seems that way.” Clark sighs. “I’ll see you Sunday.”

“See you Sunday.”

Clark fumbles slightly when hanging up the phone and when the line goes silent Rachel slowly lowers the phone from her ear and slips it back into the pocket of her jeans before leaning back in her chair, her head tilting back as she stares into the darkness above her. After a moment the Dark Knight straitens up and focuses her attention back on the data which fills the computer screens in front of her… and the second half of her sandwich.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The last rays of the sun are just vanishing from the western sky when the Tumbler heads out from the cave underneath Wayne Manor, with Batwoman behind the wheel of the powerful car and Robin riding shotgun. After leaving the Wayne Estate the Dark Knight makes use of a disused tunnel underneath the Gotham River which had originally been part of several tunnels connecting Gotham City to the mainland by rail. When trains started to become less popular for intercity travel the tunnel had been earmarked for the city’s subway system, but several wealthy Gotham families who owned home near the proposed station on the mainland had rallied together to kill the project. After that the tunnel had been all but forgotten, until Alfred suggested that the Dark Knight use it to travel between Wayne Manor and Gotham City.

So Wayne Enterprises had acquired the tunnel, ostensibly to house fiber optic cables, and rerouted it slightly so that instead of ending at the Gotham railroad yard it ended underneath a nondescript office building near the Rodgers Yacht Basin on the southern end of Gotham’s Amusement Mile. A hidden freight elevator in the small parking structure attached to the office building allowed the Tumbler out of the tunnel and on to the streets of Gotham. As Robin made a final check of the contents of his utility belt and goes over his route for the night’s patrol Batwoman guides the car past Newton and around Crime Alley towards the western edge of Robinsville where she pulls the Tumbler to a stop in a deserted alley and pushes a button to retract the roof.

“See you in two hours!” Robin smiles, as he throws a wave to his mentor before he jumps out of his seat and fires off his grappling hook.

“Stay safe.” Batwoman replies over their comlink as the roof of the Tumlber slides back into place as the young hero heads for the rooftops to start his patrol. Once the roof is secure she heads towards the north-eastern corner of the Bowery, where she parks the powerful car in a deserted alley before taking to the roofs so that she can start her own patrol.

As districts of Gotham go the Bowery isn’t very large— it’s less than half the size of Crime Alley and perhaps a third the size of Burnley— and while the working girls of Gotham might _call_ themselves “the Bowery Girls” the truth is that the women (and men) who are members of the world’s oldest profession mostly work on Keaton Avenue ,the southernmost street in the Bowery

Keaton Avenue runs east to west alongside the bank of the Sprang River and— many years ago, before Rachel’s grandparents were born, it had been one of the most luxurious streets in all of Gotham. At that time Keaton had been home to a luxurious riverfront promenade and several extremely classy hotels… but then north Gotham in general and the Bowery specifically had taken a turn for the worse at about the same time that south Gotham was growing more affluent. The promenade had all but disappeared, the classy hotels had got to hell and the working girls moved in. Now there were only a handful of buildings on Keaton Avenue which _weren’t_ cheap hotels— the kind that rented rooms with mirrors on the ceilings by the hour and where the front desk clerk would offer to find a girl (or a boy) for you if you walked in without one.

By the time that the Dark Knight has finished her patrol of the _rest_ of the Bowery a little more than two hours have passed and— apart from brief responses whenever Robin had checked in with her— she’s been as silent as the grave for almost all of that time. As she reaches Keaton Avenue Batwoman lands on top of a billboard advertizing Gotham Night News and pauses for a moment to gaze down upon the bustling street below her.

The Bowery and Keaton Avenue have been almost unnaturally quite for the past few months— the last time that the Dark Knight encountered any sort of trouble had been about a month ago, when Robin had been patrolling the Bowery on his own while Batwoman checked in on Keaton. The Dark Knight had been in a relatively light conversation with several of the newer women in the mouth of an alley when a particularly slimy man had walked up to one of the women walking the street and—after commenting that “sadly” said woman was “too old for his tastes”— he’d held out two fresh two hundred dollar bills and asked to be directed to the “kid’s table”.

The woman had responded by punching him in the face, which had lead to the man screaming bloody murder and practically exploding with profanities, which had drawn the attention not only of the other women in the area but the attention of Batwoman as well. However the Dark Knight had elected to remain where she was and let the Bowery Girls— many of whom had children of their own or young relatives— to ensure that the man wouldn’t be able to walk, let alone get it up for quite some time. Once the girls were done with the creep Batwoman had hauled him off to the local police station, pausing only long enough to get a contact number from the woman whom he’d initially approached.

After a few moments of silent contemplation the Dark Knight tips ever so slightly forward and allows herself to fall off of the billboard, building up spend for a handful of seconds before she spreads out her cape and starts gliding above Keaton Avenue. She eventually lands in a small alley in-between two hotels— the Greenwell Inn and the Royal’s Rest— where she knows Madeline Edgewood usually works. However the petite redhead who is as close to an official leader as the Bowery prostitutes get is nowhere to be found… instead there’s a tall, curvy blond woman in a slightly tattered black evening dress leaning against a lamppost just to the right of the entrance to the Royal’s Rest.

“Hello Kitty.” Batwoman says as she steps into the mouth of the alley and the blond woman smiles in return as sees the Dark Knight. Kitty Madison— who looks more like a mobster’s kept woman then a streetwalker— is not only Madeline’s fiancée, but her second in command... or at least as much of a “second in command” as she can be given the unofficial-ness of Madeline’s position among the Bowery prostitutes.

“Madeline thought you’d show up tonight.” Kitty replies with a smile, her voice practically a purr as she joins the Dark Knight in the mouth of the alley, pulling her faux fur shrug tightly around her shoulders. “She’s with a John— shouldn’t be more than two minutes before she’s back.”

“I’ll wait.” Batwoman replies, turning to move further back into the alley so that she won’t distract Kitty from her work… only to be stopped by the blond woman placing a gentle hand on her caped shoulder.

“Then I’ll wait with you— it’s a slow night.” Kitty smiles as she takes a step back so that she can lean against the wall of the Royal’s Rest. “Where’s your kid?”

“Patrolling Robbinsville.” Batwoman replies, pausing for a second as Kitty chuckles at the unspoken joke. “How are things?”

“Pretty quite— got three hundred dollars yesterday without having to do anything.” Kitty laughs as she kicks at an empty beer can lying in the alley, sending it shooting off into the darkness. “One of Madeline’s regulars came down with some like, college friend of his from out of town or something— guy tried to get me to go to his hotel, started getting angry when I wouldn’t, then tried to throw a punch at me when I kept refusing.”

“Tried?”

“I’ve got fast reflexes, he was drunk.” Kitty explains, a smirk on her face. “So he misses and his friend sees this go down and all but tackles his buddy. I guess he told the dude about you, cause next thing I know he’s white as a sheet and giving me all the money in his wallet before running off like a scared little puppy.”

“And Madeline’s regular?” Batwoman asks.

“Ran off with him, came back later— alone— and played by the rules.” Kitty replies, rubbing her hands together— it’ a warm night but there’s a chill wind blowing in off the Sprang River. Under the cover of her cape Batwoman reaches into a pouch on her utility belt and pulls out a ten dollar bill, which she holds out to Kitty, who raises one elegant eyebrow in a silent question.

“I’m keeping you from working, I should at least buy you coffee.” The Dark Knight remarks. “Get something for yourself and Madeline.”

After a second’s hesitation Kitty takes the bill from Batwoman’s gloved hands and heads for the hole in the wall convenience store that’s just beyond the Greenwell Inn, leaving the Dark Knight alone in the shadows of the alley, watching the cars on Keaton Avenue.

Most of the cars roll slowly down the Avenue, as close to the sidewalk as possible, with their passenger side windows rolled down so that the John can inquire as to the prices of the various women. Some of the cars move more quickly, with the Johns inside them most likely headed towards the section of Keaton Avenue where Madeline and Kitty’s male coworkers tend to gather or perhaps the few alleys in-between, where the more … _specialized_ members of the world’s oldest profession ply their trade.

Soon enough she spots Kitty heading back towards the alley, clutching a cardboard carrier with three cups of steaming coffee and one cup with what looks like stir straws and packets of sugar as she ignores the calls of the Johns in their cars. Most give up after one or two variations on “hey blondie” or “you in the dress”, though one man actually stops his car and calls out a fifth time before giving up and settling for one of Kitty’s “coworkers”.

Kitty steps into the alley and extracts the change from the ten dollars which Batwoman had given to her from the non-coffee filled cup and holds it out towards the caped woman— who sighs but takes it, knowing better then to argue with the curvy blond woman. After placing the change in one of the pouches on her utility belt Batwoman accepts one of the cups of coffee but declines any of the sugar and creamer that Kitty has brought back from the convenience store. As Kitty pours several packs of sugar into her coffee the Dark Knight takes a sip from the flimsy disposable cup and is… somewhat surprised. It’s not bad coffee, despite coming from a store that would, mostly likely, go out of business if a law was passed forbidding the sale of condoms.

Just as Kitty takes her first sip of the coffee the front doors of the Royal’s Rest opens and a John all but stumbles out, still stuffing his wallet into the back pocket of his jeans as he takes a right, heading towards the nearest parking lot— which happens to be in front of the convince store which Kitty had just come from. A moment or two after the John leaves the doors of the hotel open once again, this time to allow Madeline Edgewood out of the Royal’s Rest and on to Keaton Avenue. The redheaded woman briefly scans her surroundings before here gaze meets that of Kitty and Batwoman’s and she starts making her way over to the alley the two women who are standing it.

Unlike Kitty— who dresses like she’s going on a date to some fancy restaurant— Madeline Edgewood _look_ like the sort of woman who makes her living walking the streets. Tonight she’s wearing a short black faux-leather skirt over fishnet tights, which have two tears— a vertical one just below her left knee and a diagonal one across her right ankle, just above her shinny red high heels. She has red tube top with several horizontal slashes that reveal she’s not wearing any sort of bra and— as she makes her way over to her girlfriend and the Dark Knight— she pulls on a black leather shrug while holding the strap of her small fringed black bag beneath her teeth so it doesn’t get stuck underneath the shrug.

“Madeline.” Batwoman nods in greeting to the redhead as she leans against the alley wall to Kitty’s left

“Batwoman.” Madeline replies, returning the nod as she takes the last cup of coffee from Kitty and takes a sip. “I thought you’d show up tonight.”

“So Kitty tells me.” The Dark Knight replies and— before either of the women standing across from her can say anything a old white Volvo wagon slowly pulls to a stop in front of the alley and the man inside— who is both younger and less creepy looking then most of the men Batwoman sees on Keaton who aren’t walking the streets themselves— rolls down the passenger side window. As he starts asking one of the girls closer to the street when Kitty will be back the curvy blond woman quickly drains her cup and quickly makes her way over to the Volvo.

“Regular?” Batwoman asks as she watches Kitty climb into the car without the usually negotiations taking place curbside.

“Yep.” Madeline pops the “p” and takes a sip of her coffee before she reaches into her purse and pulls out a single odd looking cigarette instead of the slightly crumpled pack Batwoman is used to seeing. It isn’t until the petite redhead places the odd cigarette between her lips that Batwoman realizes it’s plastic.

“Kitty finally get you to quit?”

“Yeah.” Madeline smirks, taking the fake cigarette out like it’s real and she has to shake off the ash. “I’m on the patch and Kitty got me these things so I’d have something to fiddle with— they’ve even got like breath mint stuff in them.”

For a moment the two women watch the cars slowly roll by on Keaton Avenue, before Batwoman drains the last bits of coffee from her cup and breaks the silence.

“Any problems?”

“Eh— the usual creeps and cheapskates, but it’s nothing we can’t handle.” Madeline replies with a shrug. “Things have been quite since we dealt with that creep the last time you came round… where’s your kid anyway?”

“Patrolling Robinsville.” Batwoman replies. “What about the Joker? Have you heard anything about him or his gang?”

“Other the fact him and his girl are out of Arkham? No… girls round here aren’t really the type the Joker’s gang goes after.” Madeline replies. “If I were you ‘d try Uslan Alley.”

“I’ll do that.” Batwoman decides, tossing her now empty coffee cup into a dumpster further down the alley they’re standing in before she steps away from the alley wall. “I don’t think the Joker will bother the Bowery but—”

“But I’ll spread the word for everyone to keep their eyes and ears open.” Madeline interrupts, turning towards Keaton Avenue as the Dark Knight starts to fade into the alley. “We’ll call if anything comes up.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Uslan Alley— which is actually Uslan _Street_ , although no one in the Bowery ever calls it that— caters to a… _specific_ sort of Johns and Janes, the kind of people who either want to be tied up and beaten or to tie up and beat someone else. Additionally Uslan Alley divides Keaton Avenue into two halves— female prostitutes work on the east side of Keaton, male prostitute work on the west side and those who don’t really fit into those two categories work around the intersection of the two streets.

Once again the Dark Knight descends from the rooftops of the Bowery to land in a dark alley— this time one which lies between two low apartment buildings. As she moves towards the mouth of the alley she finds that her Uslan Alley contact— Morgan Williams— is waiting for her.

Born on the Caribbean island of Martinique, Morgan could trace his ancestry back to a slave ship’s cargo manifesto on one side and minor French nobility on the other. He’d moved to Gotham as a young man and never lost his francophone accent— in fact he tended towards playing up that accent, peppering his sentences with Martinique Creole in order to play up his “exotic” origins for his Johns and Janes. Tonight Morgan is wearing black leather boots with extra straps and buckles and dark blue biker jeans. He has a cat o’ nine tails slipped in the back of said pants and a pair of handcuffs attached to one of the belt loops.

“Batwoman.”

“Madeline called you.”

“ _Oui_.” Morgan replies with a smirk as he shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans, seemingly unaffected by chill in the air. “Looking for the Joker’s men?

“Have you heard anything?”

“Not many of them come to Keaton— but those that do come the Alley regular like.” Morgan explains. “Least they did till their boss got out of Arkham.”

“That’s troubling…” Batwoman sighs. “How are things otherwise? Johns behaving themselves?”

“Had some problems at the intersection about a week back— John went too far west— but we dealt with that just fine on our own.”

“That… I do not doubt.” The Dark Knight replies, a slight smile appearing on her face as she allows her gaze to drift to Mogan’s well muscled arms. “You know how to reach me if you need anything.”

“ _Oui_.” Morgan replies, nodding in farewell to the caped hero before turning back towards the sidewalk as Batwoman slips off into the shadows and takes to the rooftops of the Bowery once more, heading to the west to finish up her patrol of the district. She’s just turned to the north and is heading back towards the alley wher she parked the Tumbler when her comlink activates once more.

“I’m almost done with my patrol.” Robin cheerfully informs her. “Everything’s pretty quite in Robinsville.”

“Same in the Bowery.” Batwoman replies. “I’m heading back to the Tumbler now. I’ll meet you there… looks like we’re done for the night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Notes:
> 
> Keaton Avenue is named for the actor Michael Keaton, who played Batman in the 1989 Batman movie. Uslan Street / Usland Alley is named for Micahel Uslan, who has produced like every single Batman movie since the 1989 one… including Catwoman.
> 
> All three of the named prostitutes in this chapter were named by a friend of mine via the “first name = childhood pet, last name = street you grew up on”. You can see their outfits and hairstyles over at the Scilicet... tumblr -> http://rachel-wayne.tumblr.com/post/129906660546/the-outfits-and-hairstyles-of-our-friendly-gotham


	51. Eo Nomine

_Eo Nomine = Latin for “By That Name”_

 

You can’t count on much in Gotham, but Rachel Wayne finds that it never fails that when she wants a quite night she gets a busy one which leaves her only a few seconds away from falling asleep while standing up and when she finds herself in desperate need of some criminal plot to foil in order to take her mind off things Gotham becomes unnaturally quite and peaceful.

The week had started out “promising” enough, with Batwoman and Robin taking down the Ventriloquist and Scarface on Monday night, but over the following two days almost nothing had happened. Tuesday night’s patrol had been long but uneventful, despite the fact that Batwoman and Robin had split up and the Dark Knight had gone to check in on the working girls in the Bowery. On Wednesday the two’s joint patrol was actually so uneventful that Batwoman had decided to end it almost two whole hours earlier then she usually would and despite the fact that it was only a few minutes past noon the Billionaire was already getting a feeling that Thursday night would be little better.

Both Rachel Wayne and Dick Grayson are currently in the Manor’s gym, in the middle of one of the mats which they usually spar on. The boy is sitting cross-legged on the older woman’s back, calmly reading the news off a tablet while the Billionaire does push-ups.

It used to be that the Dark Knight would do her routine of sit-ups and pushups in the comfort of her bedroom, usually within seconds of waking up and often transitioning from climbing out of bed to her workout by sort of falling face first towards the floor only to turn it into a pushup at the last moment. However after she started having breakfast, either in bed or in the kitchen, with Dick Grayson, Rachel had started going to the Manor’s gym to do her morning routine while Dick did his own thing, either on the mats at her side or on the flying trapeze above.

Then one night Dick had seen an ad on TV for a Gotham City gym, which featured an overly muscled man doing pushups with a petite blond perched “seductively” on her back and the young man had asked if Rachel could do that… his adoptive mother hadn’t been sure, so the two had proceeded to try it out and discover that yes, Rachel could do pushups with Dick perched on her back. Ever since then it had become usual for Dick to either finish his morning routine or pause his morning routine so that he could sit on Rachel’s back while she does something like three hundred push-ups and listens to her adoptive son read out the news.

“…Green Arrow took down a medium sized drug smuggling operation, Blue Beatle and Booster Gold did… something in Miami.”

“Something?” Rachel asks, without stopping or even slowing down her pace.

“Well it’s clear they fought something and it looks like the won but it looks like it’s some sorta wibbly wobby timey wimey… thing. You know, something that technically never happened or something like that.” Dick clarifies as he swipes down on the screen, searching for any more worthwhile news. “The Flash and Supes just showed up to help with a forest fire near the Oregon-Washington border… oh there’s a bit in the GCPD blotter from last night about Gil Mason— you know, that new guy that came with Gordon to help with the Ventriloquist? Looks like he managed to haul in one the big shots in Rupert Throne’s operation.”

“On charges that will stick?”

“It looks like it… you think it’s going to be quite again tonight?”

“I don’t know.” Rachel sighs, performing her last push-up and lowering herself to the ground so Dick can climb off. As the young boy rises to his feet Rachel slips into a downward dog yoga position, stretching out her arms and breathing deeply for a moment before also standing upright. “I hope not.”

“Heaven forbid you get a _normal_ amount of sleep for any significant length of time.” Alfred Pennyworth remarks dryly as he steps on to the sparing mats and offers a small towel and a bottle of water to his employer. “Why you might even start doing normal things, like calling 911 when you see a crime in progress and using the elevator instead of a grappling hook.”

Dick does his best to hold back his laughter but it slips through, resulting in the boy letting out a rather undignified snort.

“Alfred…” Rachel smiles softly as she accepts the towel from the older man. “Your faith in me means more than you can imagine.”

“Thank you Miss Wayne.” Alfred replies, with just the barest hint of a soft smile on his face. “In somewhat related news, I have received several inquiries from Mr. Fox over the past few days.”

“How is that related?” Dick asks, glancing between the two adults.

“I’m going down to Wayne Enterprises later today to meet Lucius.” Rachel explains as she cracks open the bottle of water. “What sort of inquiries Alfred?”

“Your recent interactions with Mr. Kent.” Alfred replies as Rachel downs half of her bottle of water in one go.

“That’s odd… I talked with Lucius on the way back from Metropolis.” Rachel frowns. “Clark’s kept my identity concealed, so I simply told Lucius that both you and I trusted Clark.”

“And Mr. Fox did not press the matter?”

“No, he offered me his congratulations and that seemed to be the end of it… you said he’d made _several_ inquiries?”

“One which I assume occurred prior to your conversation with him and two afterwards— one on the day after your return from Metropolis and one yesterday evening.”

“Do you think that in addition to his inquiries he’s also investigating Clark?”

“It would not surprise me Miss Wayne… perhaps a conversation with Mr. Kent is in order?”

“I’ll call Clark.” Rachel sighs. “He’s probably wrapping up that forest fire by now and the sooner we get this sorted the better… I haven’t been able to edit as much of Clark history as I would like.”

Leaving Alfred and Dick behind, Rachel opens a hidden passageway which leads out of the gym and leads to a entrance to the cave. As she starts heading down the stairs Rachel reaches up to activate her Justice League communicator and slips into her “Batwoman voice”… just in case Clark is near any of the other member of the Justice League who have super-hearing.

“Batwoman to Superman.”

There’s a moment of silence before Clark’s voice comes over the line, accompanied by the background sound of wind rushing past the Man of Steel head as he flies. The Justice League communicators have built in audio filtering, but they can’t entirely filter out background sounds, especially the sort of background sounds caused by superpowers such as Clark’s speed and his ability to fly.

_“Batwoman?”_ There is concern clear in Superman’s voice and it brings a soft smile to the Billionaire’s face. “ _What’s wrong?”_

“I’m okay.” Rachel assures Clark as she reaches the bottom of the stares and steps into the Cave proper. “I’m calling because I have a… a _daytime_ matter to discuss with you.”

“ _Well, the Flash and I have wrapped everything up here… want me to swing by Gotham?”_

“If it’s not a hassle.” Rachel replies as she heads towards the Cave’s computer and stretches her hand out to hover over the button which will deactivate the alarms which Clark will undoubtedly trigger upon his arrival.

“ _It’s not. I’ll be there in a moment._ ”

A handful of second later the alarms in the cave beneath Wayne Manor start blaring and Rachel all but slams her hand down on the button to deactivate them before she turns to greet Clark, a smile on her face.

Rachel is not surprised when she sees that Clark has not changed out of suit, though she is slightly surprised to see that the bottom and lower right side of the Last Son of Krypton’s cape are noticeably burnt.

“Everything go alright?” Rachel asks.

It takes a lot of affect Clark… but it takes significantly less to affect his suit, or at least certain areas of his suit. This is, according to what Rachel has read from reports she found on the Watchtower’s servers, due to the fact that Clark’s suit and cape are not made out of anything particularly _special_. Any invulnerability which the Superman suit and cape appear to have is actually due to a “bio-electric aura” which effectively extends Clark’s invulnerability ever so slightly. Thus while Clark is unaffected by what must have been a close brush with the wildfire he’d been fighting with the Flash, his suit is visibly burned.

“What?” Clark blinks, flowing Rachel’s gaze and looking down at his cape before his eyes widen slightly in understanding. “Oh, this happens a lot with fires. I stand still to lift something off someone and my cape catches on fire, only to be extinguished when I move.”

“You must go through a lot of capes.” Rachel remarks as Clark stops hovering awkwardly and lands in front of her, just within arm’s reach.

“I do… but luckily I’ve got an alien Fortress to make me more.” The Man of Steel replies before awkwardly leaning forward. When Rachel realizes that Clark intends to press a kiss to her cheek she impulsively shifts, so that her lips meet his in a gentle kiss. The Last Son of Krypton startles slightly, but after only the briefest moment of hesitation he reaches up and runs a hand through Rachel’s hair before leaning back and ending the kiss. “So what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s _wrong_ exactly, it’s more like… _problematic_.” Rachel replies with a sigh. “What do you know Lucius Fox?”

“As in the CEO of Wayne Enterprises?” Clark asks. “Um— well he was head of research under your father, but William Earle demoted him and then fired him shortly after your return to Gotham. But when you regained control of Wayne Enterprises you not only re-hired him, but you made him CEO… did I miss anything?”

“Lucius knows I’m Batwoman. It wasn’t too hard for him to figure out when I started ‘borrowing’ prototypes and claiming I wanted them for spelunking and base-jumping at the same time that a new hero was running around Gotham.”

“Okay…” Clark frowns, obviously not knowing where Rachel is going with their discussion.

“So Lucius was, understandably, rather concerned when he opened up his morning paper and saw that I’d gone on a date with a _reporter_.” Rachel informs Clark. “I assured him that you were trustworthy, but Alfred informed me today that Lucius has been inquiries— _discrete_ inquiries, but inquiries none the less.”

“Ah…. I see.” Clark sighs, leaning back so he can look up at the ceiling of the cave as he runs a hand through his hair.

“Seeing as how your identity isn’t my secret to tell, I thought it best to confer with you as to what Alfred and I should tell Lucius.” Rachel continues. “I was thinking that Clark Kent could be Superman’s ‘source’ or something along those lines…”

“Or…. we could tell him the truth.”

Rachel blinks, her mouth falling open as she stares at… at the man who has agreed to share her baggage. For a moment neither talks and the only sound in the cave underneath Wayne Manor is the soft shifting of the bats high above Batwoman and Superman’s heads.

“Are… are you sure?”

“You trust him. Not just with your secret— but with your safety and with Dick’s safety.” Clark points out. “Your primary weapons may be the fear criminals have of you and the myths surrounding Batwoman… but those gadgets? Your car? Your suit? Well those seem to be pretty effective weapons as well, and you got all of them from Mr. Fox.”

Clark reaches out and takes hold of Rachel’s hands, which he gently clasps between his own as he leans forward until his forehead is resting against Rachel’s, causing both of their gazes to fall to their feet and the stone floor beneath them.

“Are— are you sure?” Rachel asks again, her voice soft as a whisper in the space between the two of them, her thin hands shaking slightly between Clark’s larger ones.

“Yes.” Clark replies. “I’m sure.”

Rachel takes a deep breath and a step back, her hands effortlessly slipping out from between Clark’s. The Last Son of Krypton makes no move to stop her, he simply allows his hands to fall to his sides and he absent mindedly toys with the burnt edge of his cape as he gives Rachel time to compose herself.

“I’m—” Clark coughs. “I’m free today if… well I assume you’d need me to be with you when you tell Mr. Fox. But I guess his schedule might be full, what with being a CEO and all.”

“Actually, there’s time today.” Rachel remarks. “Lucius and I have a meeting today that you can drop in on.”

“I won’t be interrupting anything?”

“To be honest I think Lucius was planning on making you the subject of conversation.” Rachel replies. “He was the one to request we meet today even though there isn’t anything business related we need to discuss.”

“Well in that case… should Superman drop in, or should Clark Kent?”

“I’m thinking that Clark should drop in, and let Superman be the one to leave.” Rachel suggests. “There’s a balcony just outside Lucius’ office— I’ll get Alfred to loop the security cameras. You’ll just have to wait for me to get to Wayne Enterprises and up to Lucius’ office.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Clark smiles. “I’ll get changed and head into Gotham.”

“I should probably do the same…” Rachel sighs, looking down at her workout clothes. “See you soon Clark.”

“See you soon Rachel.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Wayne Tower, the Gotham headquarters of Wayne Enterprises had been one of the first buildings which Solomon Wayne had hired Cyrus Pinkey to design. It was thanks to Solomon Wayne’s influence, both as a Judge and as the scion of the Wayne Family, that Cyrus Pinkey became both the official architect of Gotham City and the creator of the “Gotham Style” which still dominated the Gotham skyline and provided the arches, gargoyles and other darkly decorative elements which made it so easy for the Dark Knight to make her way her city and stalk criminals from the shadows.

However, due to the fact that Wayne Tower was one of Cyrus Pinkey’s first designs to be built, it wasn’t exactly a _good_ example of the Gotham Style. The building was, on the outside at least, too simple and straightforward to really be considered an example of the Gotham Style which Pinkey had created. It was only once you stepped inside the large building that Cyrus Pinkey’s influences could be seen… the main foyer of the building most closely resembled a European cathedral, with high arched ceilings and what seemed like miles of pale marble on the floor and the walls.

Upon arriving at the company which her family built, Rachel Wayne doesn’t bother stopping at the receptionist’s desk, but instead just heads straight for the elevators which will take her up to Lucius Fox’s office, which is located near the top of the stately building, far from the sub-basement to which Lucius had been all but banished when William Earle demoted him to the Applied Science Division.

Lucius’ office shares a floor with several other members of Wayne Enterprises upper management, a meeting room usually reserved for a Board of Directors meetings and Rachel office, which she used more as a place to change in and out of her suit then as a place to work. Lucius’ office is the closet to the elevators, with a small sort of waiting room containing a few chairs and his secretes desk to separate his office from the hallway. Rachel smiles and nods in greeting to Lucius’ secretary as she steps into the room, receiving a small smile in return from the woman as she motions for the Wayne Heiress to head into the office itself.

Lucius’s occupies the north-west corner of Wayne Tower and the windows which make up the office’s two exterior walls provide an almost unparalleled view of Gotham City. There is a small balcony just outside his office, just large enough for a low stone bench and two small planters. The office itself is rather simply decorated— the walls which aren’t windows are covered in wooden bookshelves, with books, file folders and small pieces of art on the shelves, while a oriental rug covering the marble floor. The only furniture in the room is Lucius’ desk and two chairs positioned in front of it.

As Rachel Wayne approaches Lucius’ desk, the CEO of Wayne Enterprises looks up, smiles slightly in greeting to her and presses a button under his desk— which locks the door to his office. As Rachel sits down she pulls a small mechanical device, which looks like a reading light, from her pocket and turns it on before placing it on Lucius Fox’s desk. The action draws a raise eyebrow from the older man— but not because Lucius is unsure of what the device does, since he’d been theone to give it to Rachel. The device deactivates bugs and is something which the two only use when they are discussing how Rachel Wayne spends her nights.

“Miss Wayne?” Lucius asks as he leans back in his chair.

“Mr. Fox.” Rachel replies , placing one elbow on the arm of her hair and resting her chin in her hand. “So what have you found out about Clark Kent?”

For a moment there is silence in the office, as Rachel calmly stares at Lucius and the CEO merely raises an eyebrow at the owner of Wayne Enterprises. After a second Lucius Fox sighs softly and reaches down to unlock one of the drawers of his desk. He removes a red folder from the desk and, after holding it for a second, places it on the desk in front of him.

“I’m must admit… I’m rather intrigued.” Lucius remarks as he slowly opens the file, revealing a small pile of paper with Clark’s resume sitting on the top. “At first I thought this was something to do with your _night life_ but I can’t imagine what Gotham’s Dark Knight would want with a farm boy turned reporter. As far as I can tell your Mr. Kent hasn’t been in trouble since he went through something of a rebellious streak in High School.”

As Lucius speaks he flips through the papers, revealing what Rachel recognizes as a juvenile record with Clark’s name on it, which appears to date from a time in High School when he’d been exposed to red Kryptonite, which— according to the Justice League’s records— has a tendency to turn the Last Son of Krypton into a douche.

“Of course, there are some… irregularities with your reporter’s adoption, but those are rather understandable given the events occurring in Smallville at the time.” Lucius continues. “And of course I am somewhat apprehensive about Mr. Kent’s chosen profession—”

Lucius Fox is interrupted by the door which leads to the balcony outside his office quickly opening and then closing as Clark enters Wayne Tower. The CEO of Wayne Enterprises stares at the reporter from The Daily Planet as Clark, with a smile on his face, makes his way around the desk to sit down in the chair besides Rachel Wayne.

“Sorry I’m late.” Clark smiles. “Little girl with a kitten stuck in a tree.”

“It’s no problem Clark.” Rachel replies, before she and Clark both shift so that they are facing Lucius Fox, who has not taken his eyes off Clark Kent since the man entered the room via the balcony which Lucius _knows_ cannot be accessed via any other office on this floor, or via any office on the floors above or below without benefit of climbing equipment or something similar to Batwoman’s cape.

“Mr. Fox.” Clark nods his head in greeting.

“Mr. Kent…” It almost sounds like Lucius Fox is about to say something else, but trails off the words can pass his lips.

For several moments the CEO of Wayne Enterprises and the reporter from The Daily Planet simply sit there, staring at each other, until Rachel Wayne gets bored with waiting and, in a quick often practice moved, reaches into a hidden pocket in the jacket she is wearing, retrieves a batarang and chucks it at Clark Kent’s head… only for the sharp metal projectile to harmlessly bounce off, not even leaving the slightest imprint on the man’s forehead.

Clark doesn’t react to the Dark Knight’s actions, although he does catch the batarang before it can fall to the ground. Lucius Fox jumps slightly at the Wayne Heiress’ sudden movement then, as Clark hands the batarang back to Rachel, Lucius flinches when he realizes just what it is that has just happened, then watches intently as Clark removes his glasses and unbuttons the top few butons of his shirt, so that the blue, red and yellow of his suit can be seen.

“How… how on earth does that work?” Lucuis asks, one eyebrow raised as he glances between the glasses which are now sticking out of Clark’s shirt pocket and the Man of Steel’s face.

“To be honest I’m not sure myself.” Clark admits as Rachel shrugs.

“Lucius, I apologize for not telling you this the last time we spoke.” Rachel remarks. “But this wasn’t my secret to tell and I was under the impression that Clark would not wish to share his identity.”

“However I believe that if Batwoman trusts you— not just with her identity, but with her and Robin’s safety— then I should trust you as well.” Clark explains. “Especially since I will be moving to Gotham in the near future.”

“As Clark Kent.” Rachel clarifies.

“Yes, Superman will continue to focus on Metropolis and Justice League missions.” Clark adds as he buttons up his shirt and puts his glasses back on.

“I suppose that is a benefit of ‘superspeed’.” Lucius muses, seemingly adjusting to the knowledge he’s just gained. “You may not be able to be in two places at once… but you can certainly make it seem like you are.”

“Exactly.” Clark nods. “If anything relocating to Gotham will help me keep my identity a secret. It’ll be easier to explain why I’ve never run into Metropolis’ resident hero if I’m not a resident of Metropolis.”

“So which paper will have the honor of employing you?” Lucius asks.

“ _The Gotham Gazette_.” Clark replies. “Where undoubtedly I will become the go-to reporter on all things Wayne.”

“Undoubtedly.”

Before the CEO can say anything else Clark stiffens suddenly, his head tilting to the side and his gaze going distant. Seeing this both Rachel and Lucius fall silent, Rachel because she has seen the Last Son of Krypton do this before, Lucius because he is a perceptive individual and because he is following Rachel’s lead.

“Bank robbery in Metropolis.” Clark explains as he snaps out of it and stands up.

“Go ahead.” Rachel nods, gesturing toward the balcony. “I’ll see you Sunday.”

“A pleasure to meet you Mr. Fox.”

“Likewise.”

With that Clark Kent is gone in the blink of an eye, leaving Lucius Fox and Rachel Wayne alone in the CEO’s office.

“Sunday?” Lucius asks, raising one eyebrow.

“I’m having dinner with his mother in Smallville.” Rachel explains.

“Well then I hope you enjoy yourself.” Lucius smiles softly. “Considering his abilities, Mr. Kent has done a remarkable job of keeping a low profile.”

“Yes— especially considering that while he always had some of his powers a great many of them developed during his high school years.” Rachel notes. “Still, I plan to… _rewrite_ his history some, since his association with me will undoubtedly lead to more attention being paid to both Clark’s present and his past.”

“A good idea.” Lucius nods. “Do let me know if I can assist you with that.”

“Thank you, but I believe I can do that on my own.” Rachel replies. “Gotham’s been slow the past few nights— other than that business with the Ventriloquist.”

Rachel trails off, her gaze drifting to the Gotham skyline visible beyond the windows of Lucius Fox’ office… specifically to the north-west, where her gaze appears to be resting upon a skyscraper which is a prime example of the Gotham Style and bears the logo of a bank in bright neo about halfway up. In reality her gaze is fixed not upon the skyscraper, but the area of Gotham which the building hides from the Wayne Heiress’ view… which is the location of the reason that Rachel is so annoyed with the lull in crime which Gotham in currently experiencing.

“Well, then I won’t keep you.” Lucius remarks. “Take care of yourself Miss Wayne.”

“I’ll do my best Lucius.” Rachel promises as she stands up, nodding farewell to the CEO of Wayne Enterprises before she turns and starts making her way back to Wayne Manor, all the while trying to pretend that she isn’t desperately hoping that _something_ will happen… be that the Justice League requesting Batwoman’s assistance far away from Gotham or Comissioner Gordon asking for the Dark Knight to assist him with the current crimes and criminals of Gotham and thus taking her thoughts away from a criminal who died years ago and a crime which happened years before that.

No matter what Rachel tries to think about, no matter what she tries to focus on or how hard she tries to think of and focus on nothing at all, all she can think about is that _tomorrow is the seventeenth anniversary of the murder of Thomas and Martha Wayne._

 


	52. Memoria In Aeterna

_Memoria In Aeterna = Latin for “In Everlasting Remembrance”_

 

_Don't be afraid…_

 

Rachel Wayne’s eyes snap open and for a second she flails widely before she manages to push the sheets of her bed away. Free of the clinging embrace she pulls her knees up to her chest and struggles to gain control of her breathing. Her heart races as she gasps for air for a moment, before half rolling, half falling to her side. She lies there in a fetal position for a second, before reaching up to cover her eyes with one hand as her other arm tightens around her knees. She squeezes her eyes closed and presses her hand so tightly that she sees starts, but the image of her father— dying on the damp pavement of Crime Alley yet still trying to comfort her— remains.

After a moment Rachel slowly uncurls, her body protesting as if she’d just spent two nights in the dead of winter fighting ever member of her rouge’s gallery without a moment spent resting or warming up. Once she’s straightened out Rachel moves so that she is sitting on the edge of her bed and turns her head to the side so she can look at the nearest window. The sun is peaking through the crack between wall and the curtains covering the windows, but beyond that Rachel can’t tell what time it is. She would check her cell phone or the alarm clock on her nightstand, but it appears that at some point during the night she had knocked both items off said nightstand, unplugging one and at least temporarily misplacing the other, if not crack the phone’s screen as well.

With a soft sigh Rachel staggers to her feet, running one hand through her hair as she half walks, half stumbles over to her closet. Every step she takes is a battle against the desire to return to her bed and burrow under the covers… even though she knows that doing so wont’ help her escape the horrible images running through her mind. After stopping for a moment to take a few deep breaths the Billionaire changes into a simple pair of loose fitting black yoga pants and a plain white t-shirt before she heads out of her bedroom and down through the hallways of Wayne Manor to the gym which had once been the Manor’s ballroom. On the way down Rachel doesn’t encounter any of the other human or animal members of her household… in fact she doesn’t even _hear_ Ace, Dick or Alfred, although this is probably due to her consciously avoiding the areas of the Manor they are likely to be in.

When Rachel reaches the gym she heads towards the center of the room, where a large mat upon which she and Dick usually spar sits underneath the flying trapeze which she’d had set up for her adopted son shortly after he moved into the Manor. After pausing for a moment to do a few stretches Rachel allows herself to fall forward and, at the last minute, throws out her arms to catch herself and starts her usual routine of what most people would consider an insane number of pushups and sit-ups.

Usually upon competing her routine Rachel feels… well maybe not _centered_ but at least somewhat closer to centered. However today her thoughts are just as disorganized when she finishes her last sit-up as they had been when she did her first pushup, although she does feel slightly better then she had when she woke up. So instead of finishing up with a short run or maybe some more involved stretches, Rachel starts to perform katas. She starts with the first one she’d ever learned, after she’d stopped traveling with Giovannia Zatara and his daughter but before she’d ended up heading east on a trek which would eventually lead her to a solitary confinement cell in a Chinese prison.

Once she finishes that kata she smoothly transitions into another, then another and another as she desperately tries to reach something approaching her usual state of mind. As Rachel moves through the various katas— which document her travels across the Middle East, briefly dipping into Africa before flowing into India and then through East Asia to China— she finds herself moving across the mat. Her journey takes her in and out of the pools of light created by the room’s skylights, towards the corner of the room where several punching bags and practice dummies are set up. When she reaches them she starts incorporating them into her katas… although this “incorporation” quickly transitions into Rachel just straight up attacking one of the punching bags, striking it again and again and—

_Wallets, jewelry, fast!_

_I’ll be watching the empire. When you grow up it’ll be waiting for you._

_Joe! Hey Joe! Falcone says hi_.

_Your father would be ashamed of you._

_Your parent’s death was not your fault…_

A shiver runs down Rachel Wayne’s spine and it’s like he’s standing right behind her, whispering in her ear. She shivers and for a second she’s back on that frozen lake, with a sword in her hand and the ice shifting beneath her feet as she spars with the man she’d known as Henri Ducard.   

**_…it was your father’s._ **

Rage rushes through her, just like it had back then. She lashes out, unable to control herself as she strikes the punching bag over and over again until— with a scream that feels like it tears her throats to shreds— she delivers a flying roundhouse kick to the bag. The much abused canvas sack flies backwards and splits open, filing flying everywhere as the bag lands with a sort of dull thud… leaving Rachel Wayne standing in amidst the mess, panting partially from exertion but mostly with pure unadulterated rage.

The Billionaire’s chest heaves and, as she chokes back something which might have been a scream but just as easily could have been a sob, Rachel realizes that she is no longer alone in the gym. In the blink of an eye she turns so that her back is to the nearest wall. As she moves the Dark Knight pulls a batarang from it’s hiding place and, after a second’s hesitation in which she ensures that her “visitor” is who she thinks it is, Rachel throws the razor sharp projectile at Ra’s Al Ghul’s face.

“Good afternoon Detective.” The man that Rachel Wayne had once known only as Henri Ducard calmly remarks as he catches the batarang. He inspects the weapon for a second before almost absentmindedly tossing it back towards his former student, who does not flinch as it imbeds itself in the wooden training dummy to her right.

“What are you doing here Ra’s?” Rachel asks, not turning her back to the older man as she retrieves the batarang. “I thought we had an agreement.”

The leader of the League of Shadows is simply dressed, in the sort of clothing which wouldn’t stand out too badly on your typical American street… if not for the two katanas which the man carries in sheaths on his right hip, like he’s some sort of samurai instead of… well a ninja.

“We do and I will honor that agreement… in the future.” Ra’s remarks as he closes the distance between the two of them, so that he is standing just beyond Rachel’s reach.

“But not now.” Rachel scoffs as she slips the batarang back into the hidden reinforced pocket in the waistband of her pants. Ra’s Al Ghul simply nods before pulling both swords from their sheaths. As Rachel takes a half-step back her old mentor slowly spins one of the swords around in his hand so that the blade rests upon his forearm and the hilt rests in his open palm as he offers it to Rachel. The Dark Knight silently stares at the katana for a second before slowly lifting her gaze so that she meets Ra’s eyes once again.

“Why?”

“When was the last time you practiced?”

“Three days ago. I’m teaching my son.” Rachel replies, fighting the urge to smirk at the almost but not quite imperceptible tightening of the skin around Ra’s Al Ghul’s eyes and the corners of his mouth when she calls Dick her son.

“When was the last time you _really_ practiced?”

This time Rachel sighs but does not otherwise reply… vocally at least. It’s clear from the smirk that appears on Ra’s Al Ghul’s face that the older man knows that the last time she practiced— the last time she _really_ practiced— had been in those final days before her initiation trails, which had ended with the leader of the League of Shadows lying unconscious in a villager’s hut and Rachel Wayne heading back towards Gotham and taking her first steps towards becoming Batwoman.

Rachel knows that she _should_ refuse the sword, that she _should_ demand that Ra’s Al Ghul honor the deal they had struck and that she _should_ bow to Alfred’s demands (both silent and verbal) and find some healthier way to deal with / express her emotions… but what she really wants to do is wipe that stupid satisfied little smirk off of her old mentor’s face.

_Besides…_  Rachel thinks as she shakes out her arms, sighing as she stretches slightly before reaching for the sword in Ra’s Al Ghul’s. _He’s right. It’s been too long since I practiced— and as much as I’d like to think I’ll never need to pick up a sword again, I… I can’t afford to think like that._

The second that Rachel’s hand grips the hilt of the katana both she and Ra’s Al Ghul are moving— Ra’s to put distance between himself and the sword which Rachel now has control of and Rachel to parry the attack which Ra’s had begun almost the exact second that her hand touched the hilt.

_Trust no one._

That was one of the first lessons which Rachel had learned as she made her way around the world … and that lesson had only been reinforced during her time with the League of Shadows. In fact Rachel still bears a scar on her left thigh from the first— and last— time that she had thought “Henri” would go easy on her just because she was his student. That scar, that lesson literally cut into her flesh, is what allows her to block Ra’s first attack.

The moment of hesitation as she slips back into the right frame of mine for swordplay, especially swordplay against her old mentor, is what causes her riposte to be a second to slow.

That second allows Ra’s Al Ghul to simply step away from her sword instead of having to leap away or block it with his own like a properly timed strike would have.

However instead of just stepping out of the way and reclaiming the miniscule amount of ground lost by such an action, Ra’s continues to move away from the remains of the punching bag and Rachel follows, slowly and deliberately. The two trade blows in what is almost a lazy manner, as if they are still back in the Monastery of the League of Shadows, still a teacher and student just a hair’s breath away form becoming… well becoming _more_ than just a teacher and student.

Ra’s Al Ghul has a grin on his face— it’s not _much_ of one, but it’s still there. As Rachel takes note of this Ra’s sword cuts right, but the attack is blatantly fake, which makes Rachel pause for a moment. She knows that Ra’s Al Ghul is better then her— after all he has the benefit of years of experience and a personal code which allows him to go to any lengths necessary. The only times that she’s ever been able to hold her own were when Ra’s was playing the role of “Henri Ducard” or when she had severe extenuating circumstances and the element of surprise on her side. She knows that when she spars with Ra’s he handicaps himself, but he’s never been so… so _crass_ about it. It makes Rachel wonder if she’s misreading the situation, or if Ra’s Al Ghul is trying to bait her into reacting.

She parries the blow, acting as if she hadn’t noticed the feint until the last possible moment. This accomplished she strikes back… it works, but only because Ra’s Al Ghul knows this isn’t a real fight and clearly wasn’t expecting Rachel to do such a thing. For that the leader of the League of Shadows ends up with a torn left sleeve, a cut that bleeds enough to look worse than it is and the knowledge that, if the Dark Knight had truly wanted to, she could have _severally_ damaged his arm… or even taken it off completely.

Ra’s Al Ghul does not attempt to hide his surprise or his pride at Rachel’s actions. The surprise brings a smirk to her face while the pride… well the pride makes something in her stomach twist unpleasantly as Rachel tries to pretend that all she feels upon seeing that pride is nausea. After all, there had been a time when her former mentor’s approval would have made— well now it simply makes her more determined to humiliate the leader of the League of Shadows.

Rachel lets Ra’s see the effect which his pride has upon her… in fact she plays it up and when he raises an eyebrow at her reaction and starts to open his mouth to speak she strikes out. She let’s Ra’s Al Ghul think that she is letting her emotions get the better of her, as they had back on that frozen lake, back when he’d goaded her into _sacrificing her footing for a killing blow._ To Ra’s Al Ghul’s eyes it undoubtedly looks like Rachel has— thanks to her anger at him and the mess of emotions surrounding the anniversary of her parents death— left herself open to any number of crippling, if not deadly, blows.

If Rachel was any _other_ student of Ra’s Al Ghul— be that a former student, a current student, a student who knew him only as Henri Ducard or a student who knew his real identity— a mistake like that would have earned her a new scar if she was lucky. That sort of mistake _had_ earned her scars, including a now neigh invisible one near her right elbow and a still vivid scar that starts on her left hip and curls down and around towards her inner thigh. However— because of everything she _was_ to Henri Ducard, everything she _is_ to Ra’s Al Ghul and everything that he thinks he knows about her current situation— the leader of the League of Shadows reacts by moving to strike her with the flat of his sword, as he had done on occasion back in the Monastery in response to lesser mistakes.

As the flat side of Ra’s Al Ghul’s blade comes towards her Rachel flies into action, unleashing a flurry of blows on her old mentor. Ra’s goes all but scrambling backwards, partially due to shock at the sudden ferocity from his former student, partially due to the fact that he is unwilling— or maybe even _unable_ — to meet her ferocity and thus turn this into an actual fight between the two of them.

Ra’s Al Ghul is better than her. He’s older. He has more experience. He has more resources, both due to his position as the leader of the League of Shadows, due to the wealth that comes with that position and the wealth which he has accumulated over his long life. Rachel knows this… so she doesn’t hold back. Or at least she doesn’t _really_ hold back, since she knows that Ra’s can take it. She knows that Ra’s will parry her blows and that even those blows which get through won’t hurt him _too_ badly… or at least not badly enough that Rachel will feel bad about it.

Again and again Rachel Wayne strikes out at Ra’s Al Ghul, taking risks and expending more energy than she ever would in a real fight. If this was real she’d tire too quickly, would put herself in too much danger but now… well now it’s _exactly_ what she needs, exactly what she’d been needing since she woke up. The tension that has clung to her for the past few days, maybe even longer, melts away and she feels… well to honest better then she really should.

“Still burying your guilt with anger Detective?”

There is no slipup, no hesitation in the nickname Ra’s Al Ghul calls her— but something about the way he says _Detective…_ it’s just too close for comfort to the way that he used to say _Beloved_.

Rachel isn’t sure what exactly happens, she isn’t sure what exactly it is she does. All she knows is that one moment she and Ra’s Al Ghul are facing each other, swords locked together between them, and the next Ra’s Al Ghul is on the ground. Before she’s even processed this Rachel kicks the man’s sword out of his reach and presses her own sword to his throat.

For a moment the Dark Knight isn’t sure who is more surprised— her or the leader of the League of Shadows. She opens her mouth to speak, unsure of what she’s going to say or what she should say, only to be cut off by the sound of someone, not Ra’s and certainly not her, gasping in surprise.

Snapping back to a more normal state of mind she steps away from Ra’s Al Ghul, moving so that both she and the sword she holds are out of his immediate grasp and looks towards where the gasp had come from.

Richard Grayson is standing in the doorway of the ballroom turned gym, staring in silent shock at his adoptive mother as she stands over the fallen leader of the League of Shadows. Ace is standing at the boy’s side, his body tense, his teeth showing and a growl rising from his throat as he focuses all of his attention on Ra’s Al Ghul, who has not moved since he hit the ground and only briefly glances at the boy and the dog before his graze returns to Rachel Wayne.

“We’re done here.” The Billionaire informs her old mentor, gesturing towards his sword with her own before allowing it to fall to her side in a clear dismissal.

“Indeed.” He replies, his voice remarkably level as he rises to his feet. Ra’s Al Ghul makes no move to retrieve the sword which is now lying on the ground or the sword in Rachel’s hand. Pausing only to bow ever so slightly to his former student the leader of the League of Shadows turns his back to the Dark Knight and walks away. Within seconds he’s at one of the doors which opens on to the grounds of Wayne Manor and then Ra’s Al Ghul is gone, leaving Dick Grayson and Rachel Wayne alone in the large room… Rachel still holding a sword that has flecks of Ra’s blood on it.

“What was he doing here?” Dick asks as he steps into the room and watches as his mother retrieves Ra’s Al Ghul’s sword.

“It’s complicated… and I’m not entirely sure.” Rachel sighs as she heads over to the sword rack where she’s been keeping the wooden practice swords she and Dick use... along with her own blade, the one which she’d carried down the mountain after leaving the League of Shadows. “And before you ask, no, we will not be using these anytime soon.”

Dick sighs theatrically as Rachel cleans Ra’s Al Ghul’s blood off her sword. For a moment the boy looks like he’s going to say something else, but then he catches sight of the decimated punching bag. Dick slowly raises one eyebrow as he shifts his gaze back to his mother who is calmly putting the two swords away as if there isn’t the carcass of a punching bag on the ground only a few feet away.

“Are you okay?” The question causes Rachel to jump slightly. She’s been zoning out, staring at the three swords on the rack. Cataloging the differences between the two she just acquired and the one which had been gifted to her by Ra’s Al Ghul so long ago. Dick’s question snaps her back to the moment and, as she turns to face him, the Dark Knight actually thinks about lying for about a half-second.

“I’ve been better. As much as I hate to admit it, Ra’s probably helped.” Rachel admits, crossing her arms with a sigh and leaning against the nearest wall. “In any case, it was good to have an opportunity to practice… what made you come down to the gym anyway?”

“Alfred asked me to find you.” Dick replies, reaching into the pocket of his sweatshirt— which Rachel thinks is actually one of her sweatshirts given how large it is on the slight boy— and pulling out a cell phone. Well not just any cell phone, but Rachel’s cell phone. The one that she thought was lost under her bed or behind her bedside table and hadn’t bothered looking for. “Lucius was trying to reach you, something about Computron?”

“Comp _etit_ ron.” Rachel corrects with a sigh, running a hand through her hair before taking the phone from Dick. “It’s a Steel City company that I want to buy and move to Gotham.”

The Billionaire, still leaning against the wall, dials Lucius Fox’s extension at Wayne Enterprirses from memory as Dick Grayson and Ace inspect the remains of the punching bag. The phone only rings once before it is picked up by the CEO of Wayne Enterprises.

“My apologizes Miss Wayne—”

“It’s okay Lucius.” Rachel cuts him off. “What’s going on?”

“Daniel Mockridge wants to meet with you… today.”

“The CEO of Competitron honestly expects me to go to Steel City _today?_ ”

“No, he’s not quite that idiotic.” Lucius sighs. “Apparently Mockridge is in town to finalize the purchase of a nightclub. He’s heading to Metropolis tomorrow.”

“Where he’ll stay for just long enough to meet with Luthor before he ‘has’ to go back to Gotham. Let me guess, he’s only interested in meeting with you if I’m there?”

“Of course.” Lucius replies, confirming Rachel’s suspicions. “Should I schedule a meeting Miss Wayne?”

Rachel closes her eyes and weighs her options… Gotham could desperately sue the jobs that Competitron’s acquisition would generate and acquiring the company would give Wayne Enterprises a much needed boost in production capability as well as several patents which Mockridge had all but abandoned but which could be quite profitable for Wayne Enterprises.

“Go ahead, text me the time and I’ll be there to tear Mockridge a new one for thinking he can use _today_ against me.”

“I look forward to seeing that.” Lucius replies, a smirk clear in the tone of his voice. “Until then Miss Wayne.”

“See you later Lucius.” Rachel replies before she hangs up, sighing loudly as she slips her phone into the pocket of her pants.

“So what’s up?” Dick asks. While Rachel was on the phone the young boy had taken it upon himself to sweep up the mess his mother had made when she destroyed the punching bag… while Ace had simply plopped himself down in a sunny spot and fallen asleep.

“Competitron’s CEO thinks he can trick me into buying his company for more than it’s worth by insisting that we meet today and implying that he’s meeting with Luthor tomorrow.”

“That’s stupid of him.” Dick laughs, passing the broom to Rachel when she approaches him before squatting down to hold the dust pan steady. “Why do all those business guys think you’re so easy to manipulate?”

“I honestly have no idea.” Rachel replies with a slight smirk. “You think they’d have taken notice when I snatched Wayne Enterprises out from under William Earle.”

After helping Dick to dispose of the remains of the punching bag Rachel heads back up to her bedroom. She is unsurprised to find that it has been restored to it’s usual pristine state and an outfit, one which she had previously worn to a friend’s funeral, is laid out on the freshly changed sheets of her bed. She wonders if Alfred was already up here tidying up when he got the call from Lucius or if he’d come up afterwards or if he’d already finished but had come back to lay out an outfit which would be perfect for the role that Rachel is about to play— that of the weak, emotionally fragile and easily swayed heiress to the family company.

The outfit consists of a pair of sleek dark pants, with a dull grey shirt whose longs sleeves extend down over knuckles and whose hem ends a few inches above her knees. Over this goes a sort of cape, made of a darker gray fabric than her shirt, which ends just below her shoulders in the front but falls all the way to the floor in the back. When she’d wore this outfit to her friend’s funeral, where she’d helped her friend’s lovers, friends and family bury an empty urn, she’d also worn a long velvet scarf, but Alfred hadn’t chosen to include that.

Rachel doesn’t add much to the outfit that Alfred has laid out— a pair of plain black boots and small silver hoop earrings. She puts on only a small amount of makeup, to diminish the circles under her eyes and a small bruise on her neck that she thinks is from her bout with Ra’s. As Rachel makes her way down through the Manor to the garage she pulls her hair up into a loose ponytail and then messes with it, making it look like she’s had her hair up for longer then she really has. By the time she steps into the garage, where Alfred Pennyworth is waiting with the keys to the Lamborghini Murcielago convertible in his hands, Rachel Wayne is the picture of a grief.

“Thank you.” Rachel remarks as she takes the keys to the sleek black car from her butler. Alfred Pennyworth simply nods and steps aside before watching as his employer leaves for Wayne Enterprises and her meeting with Lucius Fox and Daniel Mockridge.

It doesn’t take Rachel Wayne long to reach the Gotham headquarters of Wayne Enterprises… despite how many years have passed the anniversary of her parents’ murder still seems able to keep people off the streets of Gotham. It’s been less then twenty-four hours since Rachel came to introduce Lucius Fox to the _other_ side of Clark Kent. On that visit Rachel had been politely but warmly greeted by the Wayne Enterprises employees she passed by… now she receives equally polite but also sympathetic greetings as she makes her way through the lobby to the elevators. In response Rachel remains mostly silent, responding either with a nod or a soft almost unintelligible murmur. She is alone on the elevator ride up to the floor where Lucius’ office is and when she approaches his office the CEO’s secretary presses a button on phone, announces that Miss Wayne has arrived and then waves her in without waiting for a response from Lucius.

Outside the sun is just starting to set over Gotham, painting the sky red and causing the westward facing widows of the city’s skyscrapers to become almost painful to look at. The light reflecting off the nearest buildings to Wayne Enterprises, while diminished by the fact that Lucius’ office looks north more than it looks northwest and the tinted glass in those windows, causes every piece of furniture and object in front of those windows to cast a long shadow. The shadows, which are only partially offset by the lights in the room, gives the office an almost film noir atmosphere.

Lucius Fox is sitting at his desk, casually leaning back in his chair with one leg crossed over the other. The fingers of one hand rest just over his lips with his elbow on the chair’s armrest, while the other rests in his lap. The CEO of Wayne Enterprises looks… not exactly bored or disinterested, but something along those lines, although Mockridge doesn’t seem to have noticed.

“Miss Wayne, thank you for coming.” Lucius remarks, starting to rise from his chair before Rachel gestures for him to remain seated. As he settles back down she makes her way to the room’s only unoccupied chair, covertly observing Daniel Mockridge as she crosses the short distance between door and chair.

The CEO of Competitron is seated to Rachel’s right and Lucius’ left. Her legs are spread out, feet flat on the floor and so far out from the base of his chair that he’s sort of slipped down in his chair. As Rachel sits down in her own chair Mockridge grips the end of his chair’s left armrest and uses this to pull himself into a more upright position. As he straightens out Mockridge’s elbow comes to rest on the opposite armrest Rachel notices that he’s holding a glass of whisky in his right hand and there is a matching glass, which appears to be untouched, sitting on the desk in front of Lucius. Mockridge swirls the whisky around in his glass and takes a sip before nodding to Rachel in greeting.

“Lucius. Mr. Mockridge.” Rachel murmurs as she returns the man’s nod. Daniel Mockridge has circles under his eyes which he’s attempted to hide with makeup that he is clearly unused to applying. There’s a sort of worn down quality to the man, probably due to the stress of his company’s financial problems, but something— Rachel isn’t sure what— makes her think that there’s something more to it.

_There’s a reason for this timing, beyond just wanting to use my parents’ deaths against me. Is he trying to get away from something? Trying to put distance between himself and Competitron before… before what?_

“Miss Wayne, my condolences.” Mockridge replies, trying but failing to hide the fact that he believes he can use her family’s tragedy to get a better deal. “And please, call me Daniel.”

“Daniel…” The name leaves a bad taste in her mouth, though Rachel is careful not to let his show and instead to make it seem that she is touched by the gesture. “Lucius said you wanted to talk with me?”

_Feed into his beliefs. He thinks I’m weak, that I can be manipulated… so let him think I came because Lucius told me to, that I have been manipulated. That I don’t call the shots._

“Yes— you see I’m only in Gotham till tomorrow morning and I wanted to talk with you about Competition Software. I’ve had several offers come in over the past few days, including a very… _generous_ one from Lex.” _Using his first name, implying a closer connection the Mockridge has a snowflake’s chance in hell of having with Luthor._ “Now my company was born and raised in Steel City, but I’m a Gotham boy and I’d like to give Wayne Enterprises a bit of a leg up on the competition.”

_A straight up lie to go along with the attempted manipulation. Mockridge was born and raised in New York. He started pretending to be from Gotham after he became CEO of Competitron._

Mockridge takes a sip of his whisky before reaching down to his right, where a soft sided leather briefcase rests against the feet of his chair. From this briefcase he pulls out a folded piece of paper. Rachel doesn’t try to keep her eyebrow from raising in confusion as Mockridge unfolds the paper… but she does bit her tongue to stop herself from staring in confusion when she realizes just what the paper Mockridge is unfolding is.

It’s a chart… actually it’s _several_ charts.

Daniel Mockridge had gone to the trouble to get a meeting with Lucius Fox and Rachel Wayne so that he could show them _charts_ which look like they belong in some parody of a 1980s conference attended by at least a half dozen people. A quick glance over at her CEO confirms that Lucius is just as gob smacked by this development as Rachel, although he’s doing a commendable job of hiding this from Mockridge.

To make things even more surreal Mockridge’s charts, which Rachel can only assume were created specifically to impress her, Lucius and (probably) Luthor, are just pitiful. Even at a glance she can tell that they are either blatantly false— such as one which tries to present _Riddle of the Minotaur_ as a successful first step into video game development—  or have been laid out in such a dishonest way that they look like the kind of thing you’d see on Fox News.

To make things even worse for himself, Daniel Mockridge keeps leering at Rachel like she’s wearing something Matches Malone would consider too revealing and talking to her like she’s significantly younger then Dick. It doesn’t take long for Rachel to start losing what little patience she has with the man... and then Mockridge goes just a hair’s breath too far.

“And I’ve ensured that Competition Software owns all rights to _Riddle of the Minotaur_ free and clear—”

“No you haven’t.” Rachel cuts him off, her voice deadly serious and as sharp as the swords she and Ra’s Al Ghul had spared with earlier that day. Other than greeting Mockridge she hasn’t spoke, so the abrupt comment causes the CEO of Competitron to practically jump in his seat, knocking the empty whisky glass off the armrest of the chair.

“Ah— but I have.” Mockridge replies. Despite stammering he still manages to speak to Rachel like’s she’s a child, an idiot or both. “I had the developer of _Riddle of the Minotuar_ , or ‘Rot-M’ as the kids are calling it, sign what is called a ‘work for hire contract’ which—”

“Which makes is so that a work created by an employ ** _ee_** is legally the intellectual property of the employ ** _er_**.” Rachel says, cutting Mockridge off yet again. “ _However_ you clearly did not bother to get a lawyer, or even someone with half a functioning brain, to look over your so called ‘work for hire contract’ before you tricked Mr. Nigma into signing it.”

“Your contract isn’t worth the paper it’s written on.” Lucius Fox adds. “ _Legally_ Edward Nigma owns the rights to _Riddle of the Minotaur_ and has ample grounds for one hell of a lawsuit… especially considering the fact that you reduced his wages and claimed the difference would be made up in royalties.”

“In short, _Daniel_ , you’re lucky that I want this deal so that I can move Competitron to Gotham.” Rachel finally allows her disdain for the man to show on her face. “Otherwise I would, at this very moment, be authorizing several very competent lawyers that Wayne Enterprises has on retainer to work pro-bono for Mr. Nigma so that he could sue you for every last penny you have— and preferably for 95% of your future earnings.”

By this point Mockridge’s ridiculous charts are scattered on the oriental carpet beneath him, his eyes are wide, there’s a trickle of sweat running down the side of his face and he’s started trembling as his gaze darts between Rachel Wayne and Lucius Fox.

“Rac— Miss Wayne—” This time Mockridge is cut off by the sound of a cell phone receiving a text message. Obviously desperate for even the smallest escape from the dressing down he is receiving, Mockridge shifts all of his focus to fishing his cell phone out of the pocket of his suit and checking the message. Only to suddenly go pale and almost drop the phone as his trembling gets even worse.

“Now there are two ways this meeting can go.” Rachel continues, leaning forward in her chair and letting just a little bit of Batwoman creep into her voice and body language. “You agree to my terms and I get home in time to have dinner with my son… or you don’t agree and I go downstairs and talk to those lawyers, which will probably make me _late_ for dinner with my son.”

As she speaks Lucius Fox pulls out a red folder, carefully places it on the desk so that Daniel Mockridge can easily see the contract contained within and then places a pen on top of said contract. Mockridge, who by this time is all but panting as he stares down at the contract, looks up at Lucius Fox for a second before looking over at Rachel Wayne. For a second it looks like the CEO of Competition is about to say something, but instead he remains quite as his gaze falls back down to the cell phone which is still in his hand.

Less than a minute later Daniel Mockridge has signed the contract without even reading it… that much is clear because if Mockridge _had_ read the contract he would have realized just he might have been better off trying to sell Competitron Software to Lex Luthor and risking the lawsuit Rachel had threatened him with. After all, the contract Lucius presented to Mockridge not only allows Wayne Enterprises to acquire Competitron for unbelievably cheap, but acknowledges that Edward Nigma owns the rights to _Riddle of the Minotaur_ and includes a clause where Mockridge assumed all responsibility if Nigma sued for compensation over said rights being denied, the reduction in pay that he’d taken expecting royalties from the game and his name being slandered by Mockridge.

Shortly after scrawling his signature on the contract Daniel Mockridge stumbles out of Lucius Fox’s office like a drunkard, leaving the CEO and the Heiress alone.

“Is it just me or was that a little _too_ easy?” Rachel mutters, staring at Mockridge’s now vacant chair and the charts he left behind. She’s surprised he managed to remember to grab his briefcase in his mad dash for the door.

“Indeed.” Lucius muses as he stares down at the contract. “I thought Mockridge would insist on at least one revision— or at the very least complain about the conditions before he signed.”

“You didn’t happen to see the text Mockridge received, did you?”

“No Miss Wayne... but it appears I did accidently clone his phone.” Lucius remarks as he hits a few buttons on his computer keyboard before turning the monitor towards his employer. On the screen are two windows, one which appears to be tracking down the phone which sent the message and one which shows a screenshot of Mockridge’s phone.

_“A riddle for you— why do multimillion deals break down in the wasteland?”_ Rachel reads. “Any idea who sent it to him?”

“It appears to have been sent from a prepaid cell phone.” Lucius replies. “I should be able to track the phone to where it was sold— but I’ll only be able to identify who bought it if the store has security cameras.”

“And whoever bought the phone may not be the one who actually sent the message.” Rachel sighs, reaching up to pull her hair out of it’s ponytail so she can run her hands through it as she thinks.

“Speaking of the message— it obviously has something to do with _Riddle of the Minotaur._ ” Lucius notes. “Perhaps some sort of blackmail attempt?”

“It doesn’t read like any sort of blackmail I’ve ever seen.” Rachel notes. “I mean usually there’s a concrete amount and a literal dropoff location, not just a reference to ‘multimillion’ and ‘the waste…’”

“Miss Wayne?” Lucius asks when Rachel remains silent for a moment after trailing off.

“You said Mockridge was in Gotham to finalize the purchase of a night club… that club wouldn’t happen to be _The Wasteland_ would it?”

“Yes… on the Gotham University side of Robinson Park.” Lucius replies after taking a second to check the information he had gathered on Mockridge. “I believe Mockridge is having a semi-private event to generate ‘hype’ or some such nonsense.”

“So who’s invited to this event?”

“Reporters and bloggers, lesser celebrities, young men and women who spend their parent’s money partying, Mockridge’s business associates and a few lesser criminals who have ties to other nightclubs… nothing unusual for a night club in Gotham.”

“Think you can get me on the guest list?”

“… to be honest Miss Wayne, I don’t think you would need to be on the list to get in.” Lucius replies.

“Let me rephrase that— can you get _Matches Malone_ on the guest list?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: This chapter is the beginning of an adaption of the Batman the Animated Series episode “If You’re So Smart, Why Aren’t You Rich?” I know nothing about business or work for hire contracts or anything along those lines, so if someone out there reading this does know their stuff and knows I’ve got something wrong, please tell me and I’ll fix it! (That goes for pretty much anything in this or any other fic of mine. I appreciate it when people find my mistakes and point them out to me.)
> 
> This is the outfit Rachel wears to her meeting with Lucius and Mockridge. (http://66.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m6x3ncAt1A1qz7lyro1_1280.jpg) It is the same outfit she wore to Sherlock Holmes’ funeral in Illuminating the World. In this chapter Rachel drives a jet black Lamborghini Murcielago Convertible. (http://www.moibbk.com/gallery/model-401/lamborghini-murcielago-black-1.jpg.html)
> 
> Again (and as seemingly always) my apologies for the delays in new chapters. I’m in the process of becoming an accredited teacher and the program not only take a lot of work/time but is on an accelerated schedule without any breaks in between the semesters, so my time for writing and energy for writing is severely diminished. I’m hoping that later in the summer, when I just have one class to take, I’ll have more time to write, but I can’t promise anything. -__-


	53. Busillis

_Busillis = Pseudo-Latin for “Baffling Puzzle” or “Difficult Point”_

 

As it turns out it is laughably easy for Lucius Fox to get Matches Malone an invitation to Mockridge’s little VIP party… mostly because there aren’t any physical invitations, so all Lucius has do is access the Google Doc which serves as the guest list. A few keystrokes and “Charlotte Malone” is on that list and Rachel is heading towards the auxiliary cave to trade her “mourning Billionaire” outfit for something more in line with Matches’ personality. Although most of those outfits are kept back at Wayne Manor, or more specifically in the “main” cave, Rachel does store several outfits in the auxiliary cave in downtown Gotham and in the various safe-houses which are scattered throughout Gotham and it’s suburbs, alongside clothing for herself and Dick… just in case.

For tonight’s excursion Rachel picks out a jet black dress which, like pretty much all of Matches’ dresses, clings to her every curve and ends far above her knees. This particular dress has a low scooped neck and long sleeves which, like the shirt she’d worn to her meeting with Lucius and Mockridge, go down over her knuckles. The sleeves are cut in such a way that they are only connected to the body of the dress underneath Rachel’s arms, leaving her shoulders bare save for the thin straps holding the dress up.

After pulling on the dress and ensuring that it won’t be moving any more then she wants it to through the use of fashion tape, Rachel quickly brushes out her hair before braiding it on one side, so that from a distance or at a quick glance it looks like Matches has cut her hair short on the right side of her head and left her hair long on the left. When she finishes this it takes only a few minutes for Rachel to put on the various small prosthetics which allow her to become Matches and cover up her scars which either aren’t covered by her dress or which may be uncovered once she starts moving. This is followed by the bold makeup which Matches prefers and the jewelry she’s picked out— a necklace with small spikes hanging off of two chains and a set of earrings one is a silver spike, while the other is a series of spikes on a chain which runs up from the earring itself to an ear cuff.

Rachel has finished all her preparations and is going over the Wasteland’s floor plans, or at least the floor plans that she was able to find and which are most likely three or four years out of date when the Tumbler roars into the auxiliary cave with Robin sitting behind the wheel.

“We’re heading straight out… and I’m driving.” Rachel calls out over her shoulder as she stands up from the auxiliary cave’s computer and steps into a pair of black heels before checking the contents of a small black clutch purse— a fake ID that would stand up to the FBI’s scrutiny, a credit card under the same name, a tube of lipstick and, in a hidden pocket, a batarang and communicator, just in case she has to ditch the Justice League communicator which she wears pretty much 24/7 due to how hard it is to spot or detect.

“Okay.” Dick yawns, scrambling over to the passenger seat of the Tumbler as the roof of the powerful vehicle slides back as Rachel grabs a case containing one of her Batsuits. “Do you really think whoever sent that text is gonna show?”

“I don’t know.” Rachel admits, swinging the case up and handing it off to her son before heading around to the driver’s side. “But I’d rather go and have nothing happen then miss something happening.”

“That makes sense, but why go in as Matches?” Dick asks as he maneuvers the case into the backseat. “Why not go in as Batwoman?”

“Well setting aside the fact that while the club is open I can’t actually ‘go in’ as Batwoman, I think that the text came from Edward Nigma.” Rachel explains as she climbs up into the Tumbler, making it look easy despite the fact that she’s clad in a short dress and heels. “And he’s not exactly the type to physically assault Mockridge… or at least he’s not the type to do much _damage_ if he physically assaults Mockridge.”

“Wait… isn’t Nigma the guy who created _Riddle of the Minotaur_?” Robin asks, a frown on his face as they head off towards the Wasteland. “I guess that makes sense— so where do you want me? Up on the roof?”

“No, you can wait in the Tumbler. Alfred’s hacking into the club’s security system… they’ve got surprisingly decent coverage for a place not owned by the mob.”

 _“I believe that can be ascribed to paranoia on Mr. Mockrdige’s part.”_ Alfred comments over the two’s communicators. “ _Though seeing as someone does appear to be out to get the man, perhaps paranoia isn’t the right word… in any case, within the past few weeks the man has had a significant number of security cameras installed at his two residences and business ventures.”_

“So this isn’t the first threat he’s gotten… I mean if you can call a weird riddle a threat.” Robin muses, leaning back in his seat and resting his feet on the dashboard.

 _“I believe you are correct, but I have been unable to find any concrete evidence.”_ Alfred replies as Rachel leans over to push her son’s feet down, only for Dick to pull them back before she can and rest them instead on the edge of his seat.

The Wasteland sits in between Robinson Park from Gotham University, a little closer to the park then the college and surrounded by other businesses which are focused on taking what little cash students have left over after they pay tuition and buy their textbooks. Like a lot of the other clubs in this area it’s obvious that, at some point in the past, the Wasteland had been a warehouse or maybe some sort of small manufacturing plant, before the expansion of Gotham University and the creation of Robinson Park had moved manufacturing in Gotham either south to Tricorner, north to Otisburg or across the river to Sommerset.

After parking the Tumbler in an alley near Mockridge’s club that is large enough to easily accommodate the tank like car but dark enough so that it won’t be noticed very quickly, Rachel leaves Dick behind and heads for the club’s entrance… where it turns out that it wasn’t actually necessary for Lucius Fox to hack the guest list, because one of the two bouncers used to work at My Alibi, a club in Crime Alley that Matches had frequented before it got shut down after being hit by both the police and the health inspector on the same night. The moment that the bouncer sees Matches he greets her loudly but politely and, ignores the line that’s starting to form behind him, waves her in while explaining to his coworker in a rather loud whisper that the woman in front of them has a standing invitation to _both_ sides of the Iceberg Lounge and the Penguin’s personal table. 

The interior of the Wasteland has a sort of industrial theme, perhaps a holdover from it’s pre-club days, perhaps not. The walls are plain brick with the only decorations being large cogs and mechanical parts which have been mounted on said walls. The bar and the clubs tables, chairs booths and even the stage are patterned after these metal decorations—all weathered metal and wood that looks like it has been out in the elements for several years. Behind the stage a large rusted metal fan slowly turns behind an equally rusted grate, with several lights positioned so that as the fan moves it creates a sort of strobe effect, adding to the effect of the lights which are positioned to illuminate the dance floor.

The Wasteland is not exactly _full_ , but it’s a great deal more populated then Rachel would have thought it would be and given the line outside which she’d been able to bypass due to her connections to Gotham’s more seedy clubs, the club should be all but packed fairly soon. As she glances around, taking note of the various guests and staff members Matches finds herself recognizing quite a few faces— mostly among the staff. It seems that Mockridge had capitalized on the sudden closing of My Alibi by snatching up most of that club’s employees… aside from the bouncer outside Matches recognizes two waitresses and Steven Vestri, who had been a bartender at My Alibi.

Like many of the men and women who worked in the sort of clubs and bars which matches frequents, Steven Vestri thought that Matches Malone patronized the seedier side of Gotham’s nightlife in order to practice her flirting and generally amuse herself. Like most of the bartenders that Matches encountered, he can be counted upon to know that when Matches orders a rum and coke she actually wants a glass of ice and soda with the smallest possible splash of rum… so when he catches sight of Matches Malone in all her finery making her way towards his second of the Wasteland’s bar, he immediately starts mixing said drink.

“I guess My Alibi isn’t reopening anytime soon?” Matches asks as Steven sets the “rum and coke” in front of her with a flourish.

“Doesn’t look like it.” Steven sighs. “Luckily this place was hiring— new boss hired all the guys and most of the girls.”

“Most?” Matches asks, raising one eyebrow as she picks up her drink and absentmindedly swirls the liquid around.

“Mary and Lulu wouldn’t exactly fit in with this place’s image.” Steven replies, gesturing at one of the waitress— who is young, almost painfully thin and… well pretty much the exact opposite of Mary and Lulu. “But I heard they got work as like half-bouncers, half-‘special’ act at a place in the Bowery.”

“Good for them.” Matches smirks, making a mental note to check up on the two the next time that her patrols take her past the Bowery.

“You know, I didn’t expect to see you here Matches.” Steven notes as he starts glancing around the club. “Well, at least not alone... is your guy running late or something?’”

“He got an invite, but he’s too busy to come.” Matches replies with a long suffering sigh. “So I thought I’d amuse myself and maybe find someone who _isn’t_ so busy all the time.”

“Well it’s certainly the right night for that.” Steven remarks as he glances around the club. “At least it will be if the VIPs Mockridge—that’s the owner— invited actually show up.”

“I’ve heard some… _interesting_ things about the guy. Is it true he’s selling out to Wayne?”

“Not this place. Mockridge’s the CEO of some tech company and he’s apparently gonna make a fortune selling it to Wayne. I think he got this place because he wants to play the role of a big shot club owner—like Penguin but without the backroom. Who knows, maybe it’ll even work.”

“Is he here?” Matches asks, glancing around the club, which is slowly starting to fill up but is still far from crowded.

“I think so… why, you gonna make him pay for your tab tonight?” Steven smirks.

“If I do then fee free to add something for yourself on there.” Matches laughs as she runs a finger around the rim of her glass. “In the meantime, I’ll sit here till your new boss shows… and you can overcharge the idiots who buy me drinks.”

Steven laughs, tilting forward so he doesn’t thrown his head back, before he moves over to serve a group of trust fun brats to Matches’ left. As the bartender leaves Matches rolls her shoulders, tilts her had to one side and then essentially places herself on display— she turns to one side, rests her left elbow on the bar and acts as if all her attention is focused on the drink in her hand.

It doesn’t take long for the free drinks to start pouring in, usually with commentary from Steven along the lines of “the wanna-be pimp over there, wanted me to give you some stupid fru-fru drink with a joke of a name” or “the hipster on your right, told me he’d give me five bucks if I used cheap rum but said it was top shelf.” Occasionally the drinks are accompanied by a note scrawled on a napkin or by the man buying the drinks… Matches is halfway through turning down a business man desperately trying to fact that he’s going bald in his late twenties by emulating Donald Trump when she is cut off by a hand landing on Matches’ right shoulder. Despite the fact that Rachel is firmly entranced in her Matches persona she almost gives in to the desire to send the hand’s owner flying just as she’d done to Superman in that club in Metropolis… but then the hand’s owner speaks and she realizes just who has decided to step in between her and wanna-be Donald Trump.

“Is this man bothering you gorgeous?” Daniel Mockridge asks, sounding as if he’s already had a few drinks, but not as many as Rachel would have expected him to have given how he’d acted during his meeting with her and Lucius. As the former owner of Competitron Software speaks he leans forward, the motion causing his hand to slide across Matches’ shoulders  and down her arm, leaving her all but pressed up against the man.

“Not really.” Matches replies, suppressing the urge to shudder in disgust as Mockridge looks down at her… or rather tries to look down Matches’ dress. “He’s just boring me.”

“Well, then why don’t you come over to my _private_ table?”

“Sounds like a plan... Mister?” Rachel trails off as she slips off her bar stool.

“Mockridge.” The man replies, wrapping an arm around Matches’ shoulders once again. “Daniel Mock—”

The two haven’t even taken three steps away from the bar when Mockridge suddenly cuts himself off with a noise that sounds like a cross between a cough and a dog choking. As Rachel turns to glace at the man in confusion he steps away from her as if she’s a hot surface and he’s just been burned… and reaches into his pocket with trembling hands, pulling out his phone.

 _“Mockridge just received a text message— it’s from the same burner phone as the last one.”_ Alfred informs her over the communicator as she watches Mockridge fumble his way through unlocking his phone and accessing the message he’s just received. “ _Another riddle for you - what is always on it’s way, never arrives and won’t be seen by you?”_

 _“Tomorrow!”_ Robin realizes and Rachel is willing to bet he’d bounced in the Tumbler’s passenger seat upon coming up with the answer. _It’s always coming, but when it arrives it’s today. ”_

“Daniel?” Matches pouts, leaning against the man as if she actually wants his attention. “What, is your girlfriend calling?”

“Uh no, it’s just some… some business.” Mockridge stammers, clearly even more unnerved then he had been when the first message. “Business I have to deal with… unfortunately.”

“And here I thought I was going to have a good time tonight.” Matches sighs dramatically as she turns back towards the bar.

“I do apologize—” Mockridge stammers awkwardly, clearly just realizing that he doesn’t actually know her name. Luckily Steven is there to help his new boss out by coughing and “discretely” hissing out her name. “Miss Malone, I hope you’ll allow me to make it up to you.”

“Well that depends, what do you plan to do?”

“You have whatever you want for the rest of the night, and allow me to take you out to dinner tomorrow… at whatever restaurant you want.”

“I like the sound of that plan.” Matches smirks, snagging a napkin from under the drink the Donald Trump look-a-like had abandoned and accepting the pen which Steven offers her before she even needs to ask. “Call me when your business is done… maybe we can have breakfast tomorrow, instead of dinner.”

“I look forward to it.” Mockridge replies as he takes the napkin from Matches, managing to look suave for a few seconds before he looks down, sees his phone and goes pale once again before rushing off.

“So what number did you give him?” Steven asks as the two of them watch Mockridge make his way across the club to a door which must lead to an office of some kind.

“Rejection hotline some disk jockeys in Metorpolis put together, apparently they play the ‘best’ voice mail messages on air.” Matches replies with a smirk, smoothing down her dress as she stands up. “Get yourself something expensive on Mockridge… I think I’ll turn in early tonight.”

“See you around Matches.” Steven smirks as he pretends to tip his hat to Matches as she heads towards the club’s exit.

“What’s Mockridge doing?” Rachel asks as she makes her way around a group of Gotham University students whom she is willing to bet got in with fake IDs.

“ _It appears that he is looking into hiring bodyguards… and contemplating buying a gun.”_ Alfred replies.

“ _Great.”_ Robin sighs. _“How long till the club closes?”_

“Clubs around here usually close around 2 am.” Rachel replies as she passes through the main doors of the club and, after smiling at the bouncers, turns to head towards the alley where the Tumbler is parked. “HQ, keep an eye on Mockridge while Robin and I patrol.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

While Batwoman and Robin make their way through the streets and allies around Gotham University, taking down would be muggers and worse, Daniel Mockridge gets one more riddle via text message— well it’s more like an equation, albeit  a very complex one, which gives a time for Mockridge’s meeting with the man (or woman) behind the text message. After putting that equation into google to come up with an answer the former CEO of Competition Software spends the next few hours working his way through his rolodex of criminal and semi-criminal contacts in order to purchase himself some hired muscle.

By the time that the Wasteland has closed it’s doors and sent both patrons and employees away, Mockridge has hired six low level crooks, who Batwoman doesn’t recognize and whose faces aren’t recognized by the Cave’s computer but who look like the sort of men who occasionally work for Penguin or Bane, but usually work for Gotham’s various mob bosses or other “lesser” criminal organizations. As the time specified in the latest text message approaches Daniel Mockridge occupies himself by pacing back and forth across the back office of his club while his new bodyguards spread out around the room and Batwoman and Robin position themselves so that they can look in via a skylight over what appears to be Mockridge’s desk.

“I don’t get it, why didn’t Mockridge just leave?” Robin asks in a whisper. “Why stick around to confront the guy sending you creepy text messages?”

“Maybe he thinks he— or rather his new bodyguards— can get the better of Nigama.” Batwoman suggests

“I can sorta get that, I mean the guy is pretty scrawny.” Robin sighs. “But still, you’d think that he’d at least be a little afraid that Nigma would hire some goons or—”

The young vigilante cuts himself off as the light in the office below suddenly go out, leaving the Wasteland’s office dark save for the minimal light coming in through the skylight which Batwoman and Robin are peering in through.

“What the hell?!” Mockridge cries out, sounding like a scared child.

“Tell me Mockridge, did you decode my messages all by yourself? Or did you have help?”

Even with the assistance of the night vision which is built into Batwoman’s cowl and Robin’s domino mask the only people visible in the room below them are Mockridge and his six bodyguards, all of whom are peering around the room. Mockridge is already trembling slightly while the bodyguards have their guns drawn but aren’t moving any closer to Mockridge.

“You’re trespassing Nigma!” Mockridge growls as he backs into and almost trips over a chair. “Get out!”

There’s no response from Nigma, no sound of footsteps or any sort of indication if Nigma is obeying Mockridge’s demands or moving closer. After a moment Daniel Mockridge awkwardly steps away from the chair which he almost tripped over and squares his shoulders before speaking again.

“You can’t kill the deal Nigma! I sold Competition to Wayne, there’s nothing you can do to stop it!”

“I’m not trying to stop the deal Mockridge…” With a snap that seems to echo through the room a single light comes on, illuminating Mockridge’s desk where Edward Nigma is now sitting. “I’m here because I have a proposition for you to consider.”

The creator of _Riddle of the Minotaur_ is a tall, thin man with short brown hair which looks like he’s just run his hands through it several times. He’s wearing a dark green pinstriped suit with a light purple collared shirt and a brown tie, which he briefly straightens before resting his elbows on the desk in front of him and steepling his fingers.

“Proposition?” Mockridge practically stammers as he steps away from Nigma, who seems strangely unconcerned about the fact that six guns are now pointed at him. “What, you’ve come up with a new game? Why the hell would I be interested in that? Your last game almost bankrupted my company!”

“If you weren’t such an idiot then your company would have made millions from my genius— but I don’t want money Mockridge.” Edward Nigma smirks, flashing his teeth as he leans back in his chair. “What I want now… is _you_.”

Nigma makes a gesture as if he is lazily flagging down a waiter at a posh restaurant and part of the reason behind Nigma’s lack of concern over the six armed thugs around the room becomes apparent… they’re apparently not working for the former CEO of Competition Software but creator of _Riddle of the Minotaur_. Following Nigma’s gesture the two men closest to Mockridge turn towards him, with guns drawn… only to become quickly and painfully acquainted with the floor as Batwoman and Robin come crashing through the skylight, each one landing on top of one of the goons and knocking them out cold. While the remaining four thugs and Edward Nigma are momentarily shocked by the sudden arrival of the Dark Knight and her squire the two send batarangs flying, knocking two more guns out of hands and skittering away into the darkness of the room.

“Well well… don’t  you know what happens to gate crashers?” Edward Nigma mutters as he slowly stands up, resting his hands on the desk as he leans forward. “They have to match wits with the Riddler.”

“Really Nigma?” Robin sighs. “A joke on your name is the best you could come up with?”

“I guess it was too much to hope that you’d have a brain to go with her pointy cowl.” Edward Nigma sighs, starting to move around the desk as he gestures to his hired thugs. “I guess you just make do with brawn.”

Those thugs who have managed to hold on to their guns fire as Batwoman dodges one way as Robin goes the other way, throwing two more batarangs and sending the last of the guns in the room sliding across the floor into the darkness. As Nigma continues to make his way around the desk and towards Mockridge— who had gotten knocked to the floor at some point and is staring in shock at the event unfolding around him— the four crooks who are still conscious demonstrate that “the Riddler” must be paying them very well by moving to fight Batwoman and Robin… despite the fact there were only six of them to begin with, two had already been taken down in a matter of seconds and all had been rapidly disarmed.

As the Dark Knight and her squire move to deal with Nigma’s remaining four henchmen, the man who thinks it’s a good idea to call himself “the Ridler” pulls what looks like a TV remote which had been stepped on and then cobbled back together with duct tape and wires which couldn’t be cut for some reason out of his pocket.

“Well done Batwoman.” Nigma smirks as he presses one of the buttons. Something overhead crackles before sending sparks flying, sparks which turn into flames and quickly start to spread.

Part of an overhead beam comes crashing down, forcing the vigilantes apart from Nigma’s goons. The sprinklers don’t turn on, making it clear that either Mockridge is more shifty then Batwoman had through and/or that Edward Nigma had been determined to ruin Mockridge when he set up his device. What seems like only a few seconds after the fire starts a large flaming piece of what looks like a beam or joist comes crashing to the ground not three inches in front of Robin. As the young vigilante shields himself from the flying sparks and splinters with his cape Batwoman moves towards the two goons they knocked unconscious and the remaining goons head towards Nigma, who has somehow manage to handcuff Mockridge.

“Batwoman! You gotta help me!” Mockridge screams, struggling against the goons who have grabbed him and are dragging him towards the exit, with Nigma leading the little group. “I can pay you! Anything you want!”

Burdened with the unconscious men and becoming increasingly at risk of being trapped in the burning club, Batwoman has no choice but to head towards the nearest exit… which happens to be the window behind Mockridge’s desk. Robin darts in front of her, breaking the window before turning to help his adoptive mother set down one of the unconscious men so that she can go out the window with the other. As soon as that man is on the ground in the alley below the Dark Knight grapples back up, both for the other unconscious man and for her squire, who is holding the flames at bay with a small fire extinguisher from his utility belt.

“Did you get a tracker on him?” Robin asks as the sound of fire sirens cuts through the night.

“I tried but I think I threw it too close to the flames.” Batwoman replies. “HQ, traffic cameras?”

“It appears Mr. Nigma is one step ahead of you.” Alfred Pennyworth replies over the com link. “Gotham’s traffic camera system went down shortly after Mr. Nigma entered his getaway vehicle. I am attempting to track ‘the Riddler’ via ATMs, security cameras and such, but that will take—”

The Wayne Family Butler abruptly cuts himself off as every light around Batwoman and Robin— from the flickering streetlights, to the neon lights of nearby clubs and businesses and even the lights inside the nearby buildings go out all at once.

“What?” Robin sputters, turning so that he is back to back with Batwoman as batarangs appear in the two hero’s hands. For a moment everything remains dark and the only sound is that of the Gotham Fire Department’s approach… then all of the lights that had just gone out turn back on… along with all of the lights which had been out in the first place. This pattern repeats, with lights flashing on and off… occasionally staying on only a shot time, but sometimes staying on for longer.

“Wait… is that morse code?” Robin asks, turning towards his adoptive mother who nods as she holds up a hand indicating that Robin should wake as she watches the lights flash on and off, tapping out the message on her thigh.

.-- .... . -.     .. ...     - .... .     -- .. -. --- - .- ..- .-. ...     --- .-- -. . .-.     .- ...     .... .. --. ....     .- ...     .- -.     . .-.. . .--. .... .- -. - ...     . -.-- . ··--··

 

Author’s Note: This chapter continues my adaption of the _Batman the Animated Series_ episode “ _If You’re So Smart, Why Aren’t You Rich?”_

You can see Matche's outfit from this chapter [here](http://rachel-wayne.tumblr.com/post/148926056121/matches-malones-outfit-from-the-last-chapter-of).

In this fic the role of the Riddler will be played by David Tennant because of [this fanart](http://www.flickfilosopher.com/wptest/wp-content/uploads/2010/10/tennantriddler.jpg). Also because I am a huge Doctor Who fangirl, although I actually pictured Tennant as Killgrave in _Jessica Jones_ while writing his scenes. The morse code message at the end of the chapter was generated using [this website](http://www.unit-conversion.info/texttools/morse-code/).

This chapter is dedicated to [sanityisboringlivealittlecrazy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sanityisboringlivealittlecrazy) who left me a wonderful comment which brightened up my day and made me make such a silly happy face that my mother thought I’d gotten a text from a boyfriend or girlfriend. (Despite the fact that I have neither right now.)


	54. Cepe Indicum

**_Cepe Indicum = Latin for “Take A Hint”_ **

_“Wait… is that morse code?” Robin asks, turning towards his adoptive mother who nods as she holds up a hand indicating that Robin should wake as she watches the lights flash on and off, tapping out the message on her thigh._

_.-- .... . -.     .. ...     - .... .     -- .. -. --- - .- ..- .-. ...     --- .-- -. . .-.     .- ...     .... .. --. ....     .- ...     .- -.     . .-.. . .--. .... .- -. - ...     . -.-- . ··--··_

The soft sound of the Dark Knight’s gloved fingers tapping against one of the pieces of armor planting on her outer thigh, just above and to the side of her knee, comes to a stop as the lights around the vigilante and her adopted son return to the way they had been before the impromptu morse code light show began.

“What did it say?” Robin asks as Batwoman picks up the two unconscious thugs without breaking a sweat and heads down the alley towards the street beyond, where two fire trucks and two police cars are parked on the side of the road, their lights flashing. As the Dark Knight and her Squire approach they can see several firemen doing their best to put out the flames which have all but engulfed the Wasteland. One police officer is standing near the cars, apparently talking on her radio, while the other three officers attempt to coral the growing crowd which is composed mainly of drunk college students who have stopped to watch the pretty light generated by the burning club.

Batwoman heads straight for the officer standing by the cars, ignoring the crowd whose attention is now split between the fire and the two heroes. Batwoman ignores the excited gestures of the crowd and the cameras pointed at her and Robin as she simply drops the two unconscious men at the feet of the police officer. In true Gotham fashion the officer— a young woman with rich black skin whose is identified by her badge as _J. ORMES_ and has chestnut hair in thin yarn braids which are gathered at the back of her neck by a dark blue ponytail holder— reacts by barely raising one eyebrow and poking one with her foot as she pulls out her handcuffs.

“Don’t look like arsonists… they’ve involved in this or where you just in the neighborhood?” Officer Ormes asks, tilting her head towards the still burning nightclub.

“They’re hired muscle.” Robin explains. “The guy who hired them set the fire, kidnapped the club’s owner… oh and made the lights go all crazy.”

“We’re dealing with it.” Batwoman adds, nodding to the officer respectfully before shooting off her grappling hook and taking to the rooftops.

“So what did it say?” Robin asks again as the two make their way back to the alley where the Tumbler is parked.

“‘When is the minotaur’s owner as high as an elephant’s eye?’”

“Seriously? I mean, I know this guy’s name is ‘E. Nigma’ and he wants to be called the Riddler, but _seriously_?” Robin sighs as the two climb into the tank like car. “So ‘minotaur’s owner’ means Mockridge… but what’s ‘as high as an elephant’s eye?’”

“Corn.” The Dark Knight replies, briefly glancing over to ensure that her squire is buckled in as the Tumbler roars to life. “It’s from a song.”

“So when Mockridge is in the… corn?”  Robin frowns and tilts his head to one side as Batwoman maneuvers the powerful car out of the alley that she’d parked it in. “Or… when Mockridge is in the maze? Like cause of corn mazes?”

“More likely because of maize— M A I Z E.” Batwoman replies. “HQ, isn’t there a panel maze in Amusement Mile?”

“Yes, the ‘House of Many Troubles’.” Alfred Pennyworth replies over the com link after a moment’s investigation. “The owners declared bankruptcy several months ago following a failed health and safety inspection— the entire building was riddle with termites and there was inadequate fire sprinklers. However it would appear that there has been some activity inside the building recently… activity which started on the same day that Mockridge received the first threatening message.”

“Please tell me that we’re gonna find some weird revenge set up.” Robin practically whimpers.

“We’re not going to find some sort of weird revenge set up.” The Dark Knight replies with a perfectly straight face.

“Liar.” Robin huffs. “But… well are we sure that Nigma’s there now and not at some other random business with ‘maze’ in it’s name?”

“There is a security camera across the street which captured Mr. Nigma and his associates entering the House of Many Troubles with Mr. Mockridge in tow.” Alfred replies, drawing another frustrated huff from Robin. “I’ve taken the liberty of sending the most efficient route to the Tumbler’s navigation system. Shall I inform Commissioner Gordon for you?”

“No, I’ll do that on the way over… provided that _someone_ can keep themselves form any more outbursts.” Batwoman replies, mock glaring at Robin who only just manages to stop himself from snorting as he pantomimes zipping his lips closed. “HQ, see if you can come up with a way to get us a view of the maze… I don’t exactly trust Nigma to play fair.”

“What about the thermal camera on the Batplane?” Robin asks.

“That would enable us to see the general location of anyone inside the maze, but it would not allow us to tell who we looking at and it is unlikely that we will be able to see the walls of the maze.” Alfred replies.

“Still better than nothing.” Batwoman sighs. “If worse comes to worse we can create a skylight at the right spot and either pull Mockridge out or take down Nigma.”

“Very well.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Amusement Mile had started out as a small, unnamed and relatively uninhabited peninsula of Bleake Island where traveling carnivals would set up shop when they came to town. In 1912, shortly after Gotham’s fishing industry moved south to Miagani Island and the first pleasure boats started to appear in the bay which would one day become the Rodgers Yacht Basin, an amusement park called Amusement Mile opened it’s doors on the peninsula’s eastern tip. It didn’t take long for Gothamites to start calling the whole peninsula “Amusement Mile” and simply tack on “park” when they needed to clarify things. Despite lean years, safety concerns and crime problems (ranging from rowdy teenagers to the Joker)  the park had remained open and a host of attractions and businesses geared towards park-goers had sprung up on the rest of the peninsula, although most were clustered around the park itself.

The House of Many Troubles sat on the outskirts of that cluster of attractions and businesses, closer to the residential area of Amusement Mile— which was more of a northern extension of Newton then it’s own neighborhood— and the businesses catering to the Yacht Basin then to the park itself. In fact the House of Many Troubles was less than three blocks away from the nondescript office building whose hidden lift and connection to a disused railroad tunnel under the Gotham river allowed the Tumbler to more discreetly travel between the cave under Wayne Manor and Gotham city itself.

At first glance the indoor maze looks like a business that had been closed down and somewhat haphazardly boarded up by owners who knew they were never going to open said business again. However, after leaving the Tumbler (in yet another alley) and conducting a quick inspection, it becomes obvious to the Dark Knight and her Squire that there was nothing haphazard about the boarding up of the House of Many Troubles. With the exception of the front entrance every single door, window, skylight or anything even remotely resembling an entrance has been sealed up as if a hurricane is on it’s way.

“This… this has ‘trap’ written all over it.” Robin sighs as he and Batwoman peer down at the House of Many Troubles from the roof of the building across the street.

“Yes it does.” Batwoman agrees as she folds up her binoculars and slips them back into the appropriate pouch on her utility belt.

“So what are we going to do?”

“Spring it.”

“… _spring it?_ ” Robin blinks as he turns to look at her.

“It’s a trap, but it’s a trap that Nigma set up for Mockridge.” Batwoman clarifies. “So it’s a trap set up by a man who thinks he’s clever for a man he thinks is an idiot.”

“…and you’ve sprung traps that actually threatening villains have had months to plan and set up for you specifically.” Robin concedes, shifting slightly as he rolls his shoulders and shakes out his arms. “Well, let’s go spring ‘the Riddler’s’ trap then.”

Batwoman launches herself off the roof, using her cape to glide across the street and land in front of the House of Many Troubles, with Robin landing close behind her. The moment that the two’s feet touch the ground a spotlight illuminates the front wall of the attraction, revealing that the intricate mural which occupies the entire wall has been changed— specifically the maze’s real name has been painted over by large green letters which look like they are a maze seen from above and read _THE RIDDLE OF THE MINOTAUR_. After a moment it turns out that the “spotlight” illuminating the wall is actually a projector, as the image momentarily goes to static before Edward Nigma appears.

“Riddle me this Dark Knight!” Nigma practically screams as he dramatically throws his hands out to the side. The thin man is leaning back in a chair like some sort of Bond villain, only more colorfully dressed and without the long haired cat to stroke. “What kind of idiotic backwater slum has a _bat_ as it’s ‘greatest detective’?”

“Where’s Mockridge?” Batwoman replies, barely even acknowledging the man.

“He’s in the center of the maze of course! I guess it was too much to hope that you would figure that out…” Nigma replies as he leans back in his chair with an overly dramatic sigh, running a hand through his already wild hair. “I had planned on making him run through it, but I think it will be more enjoyable to watch you and your boy blunder over there try… and fail. You have fifteen minutes to reach the center of the maze and answer the riddle of the minotaur— or Mockridge becomes the only good corporate shark… _a dead one_.”

With a sneer on his face Edward Nigma reaches off to the side, to something out of the range of the camera which he is using to project himself on the front wall of the House of Many Troubles and the doors to the maze swing open as the projector turns off.

“HQ.” Batwoman keeps her voice so low that Robin is only certain she’s speaking due to her words being amplified over their com link and he’s certain that it would be next to impossible to see her lips moving even with the best cameras on the market. “Trace Nigma’s camera feed.”

“Of course.” Alfred Pennyworth replies as Batwoman and Robin head up the stairs, past the ticket window where a faded _CLOSED_ sign hangs amid cobwebs and into the maze. The moment that both vigilantes have crossed the threshold and are inside the maze the doors swing closed and large and complex looking lock slides closed with a series of loud clicks, almost like someone had recorded the Flash unlocking a safe and played it back as loud as they could.

The House of Many Troubles had— according to what information Alfred had been able to dig up— originally been a part of the actual Amusement Mile park. After a year or two the entire building had been slated for destruction so that it could be replaced with a mirror maze, but at the last minute someone had bought the panels of the maze and moved them outside of the amusement park. The House of Many Troubles had been there ever since, going through cycles of neglect and repair, it’s panels “touched up” by artists of varying abilities until it’s last owners, who had been starting to renovate the place into some sort of laser tag attraction when they’d been shut down.

The panels which form the walls of the maze are painted to resemble walls of a house which is a sort of mix of a Victorian manor and some sort of quasi-oriental palace, but they are faded and have clearly been neglected for a long time. All of the overhead lights are off, with some appearing to have been torn out of their ceiling, so the only light comes from green rope lights which Nigma must have put in and which run along the baseboard of the walls and seem to make the neglected panels even more washed out.

However even in the near darkness that this lighting creates it is clear that Nigma, or one of his goons, has rearranged the panels. The images on the panels clash, in a way that not even the worst attempt at restoration would account for. There are gaps, most no more than a finger’s width across, but a few large enough to put a hand through between the panels. Here and there spots can be seen where a panel has been broken off, to form a straight path where once there was a turn or dead end. There are also rough spots on the floor, where it is clear that a support for the panels used to stand… and to top all of that off the maze has so far contained nothing but a straight path.

The first concrete sign that Edward Nigma has done more to change the House of Many Troubles then just adding a new name on the sign outside comes when the straight path which Batwoman and Robin have been following since they stepped into the maze takes a sharp left turn, which is accompanied by a sign which reads “LOSER’S AHEAD”

“What’s that mea—” Robin’s question is cut off by the sound of poorly oiled machinery starting to move. The young hero stops moving, only to find himself pushed forward by his adopted mother, who all but throws herself on top of him. When Robin glances up he can see why— there are two nasty looking saw blades poking out of the wall, at _exactly_ the right height to cut someone’s head off.

“Loses a head.”  Dick gulps as Rachel moves so that he can carefully crawl out from under her arms and out of the range of the saw blades. “How’d you get that?”

“I didn’t.” Batwoman admits as she carefully makes her way out from under the blades, which retract into the wall once she stands up. “I’m just good at reacting quickly.”

“I don’t know what’s worse… that we’re in a maze of deadly traps or that it’s a maze of deadly traps involving _puns_.” Robin grumbles as they continue down the path, still trying to go as fast as possible while still paying attention to their surroundings. Soon a fork appears ahead of them, with one path headed off to the right and one to the left. In between these two paths a sign is posted on the wall.

الطريقة التي ل مكان الأكل؟

“Is that Arabic?” Robin asks as he peers at the sign.

“Yes, well really bad Arabic. It looks like he used Google translate.”

“So… can you read it?”

“I’m going to assume Nigma wanted it to say something like ‘which way to the eating place?’” Batwoman replies as she moves towards the right hand passage. “Which means we need to go this way.”

“Wh— you sure?”

“In the Arab world you always eat with your right hand.” Batwoman explains. “The left is considered unclean. A lot of other cultures have similar beliefs, it’s why left-handed people used to be forced to use their right hand.”

Now the maze starts to twist and turn, though all of the branching paths are without riddles or puzzles and a wrong turn results only in a dead end showing up fairly quickly, often so soon that even glancing around a corner will allow the two heroes to see if they are headed the right way or not. As Batwoman and Robin approach what looks like a dead end Alfred Pennyworth’s voice comes over their com link once again.

“I have determined that Mr. Nigma is not in the immediate area, I am still tracing his exact location.” The Wayne Family Butler informs the two heroes. “As soon as I determine his location I shall pass that information on to the nearest authorities.”

“Okay.” Batwoman replies, timing her response to Alfred in order to make it seem like she’s commenting on the fact that the “dead end” is actually a closed door with an overly elaborate keyhole in the center. To the right of the door there are three large keys which are labeled A, C and D. There is no riddle written above, on or around the door and no readily apparent hint as to which key will open the door.

“… this is so not even a riddle.” Robin grumbles as he contemplates the keys. “I mean, did Nigma forget to write the question or something?”

“At least there’s only three keys.” Batwoman notes, her voice so low that Robin almost can’t hear it despite the fact that he’s standing right beside her, before continuing in a slightly louder voice. “Which one?”

“Um… D I guess?” Robin shrugs, reaching out to grab the last of the three keys and, after a last glance around to try and figure out if there’s anywhere another set of saw blades (or something worse) could pop out, he puts it in the lock, turns the key—

And does his best to become part of the wall as two shards of steel, each one the length and width of one of Superman’s arms, come flying down the hallway and sink into the wall. If Batwoman and Robin hadn’t already been on edge from the saw blade trap earlier then the two needle like shards would have either impaled them or at the very least done some serious damage.

“Okay, so which key do we use to _not_ have that happen again?” Robin asks, gesturing towards the two remaining keys— A and C— as he looks over at Batwoman… who appears to be tapping her fingers against a panel of body armor on her leg. At first Robin thinks that his mother is typing out morse code for some reason, but the tapping doesn’t really sound right.

“It’s a musical puzzle.”

“… but there wasn’t any music?” It comes out as more of question then the statement which Robin had intended it to be.

“The key of D has two sharps.” Batwoman replies, gesturing to the two projectiles. “The key of A has three, but the key of C has no sharps. Use the C key.”

Robin hesitates for a second before grabbing the C key and putting it in the keyhole. Despite being confident that his adopted mother and mentor is smarter than Edward Nigma, he still plasters himself to the wall before turning the key. Thankfully, instead of more giant shards of steel flying down the halls of the maze, the door opens with a small snippet of music.

“If this thing is anything like his video game then I can see why it sold so badly.” Robin grumbles as he falls into step behind Batwoman once again.

“It was thanks to Mockridge’s idiocy that it sold badly!” Edward Nigma practically screams over some sort of speaker system with an exceedingly poor connection which causes his voice to cut out at random points. “And mark my words, he will _suffer_ for what he has put me through.”

“No he won’t.” Batwoman replies, her voice deadly clam as she effortlessly sidesteps what a bear trap that springs out of a hidden compartment on the floor and should have crippled her. “Because I’ll find Mockridge even if I have to tear this place apart.”

“Oh fine, be that way.” Nigma sighs in exasperation. “Though I will admit I am… _intrigued_. You speak Arabic and know the customs of the region, you’re quick to dodge— though that’s no surprise, now is it? You also have a passing familiarity with music… and obviously some sort of undiagnosed metal illness or world shaping traumatic event, or else you wouldn’t be prowling the night as a _bat._ ”

“Says the man who thought ‘the Riddler’ was a great villain name.” Robin shoots back, a smirk on his face as he and Batwoman reach another set of branching paths. This time there are three doors, each one with a different kind of line painted on it— the door on the right has a zig-zag, the door in the center has a curved line and the door on the left has a straight line. Above the three doors there is a smear of green paint, on which the riddle is written in black— _What is the shortest distance between a point in Nome, Alaska, and a point in Miami, Florida?_

“Laugh all you want _bird-boy_.” Edward Nigma practically snarls.“You’re running out of time— you now have less than eight minutes to reach the center of the maze and solve the riddle of the minotaur.”

“Good thing I only need one.” Batwoman replies, not bothering to hide the fact that she’s smirking.

“WHAT?!?” Nigma practically squawks, a noise which almost but does not quite cover the sound of him falling out of his chair and painfully becoming better acquainted with the floor. “What do you mean _one?_ That’s impossible!”

 “Not if you have an eye in the sky.” Robin replies. “Haven’t you heard Nigma? We don’t just have a tricked out car— we’ve also got a plane. Oh and that plane? It has a thermal camera.”

“So what? All that camera will tell you is where you are and where Mockridge is… you can’t see the walls of my maze and you still have to solve my riddles!”

“That would be true…” Batwoman replies with a shrug as she squares her shoulders. “But _someone_ decided it was a good idea to use maze built of wood that’s been half-destroyed by termites.”

Before Edward Nigma can say anything Batwoman runs forward, through the center door of the riddle and towards the wall beyond instead of turning to the right as the maze does. With an almighty crash the Dark Knight goes barreling through the wall, causing the entire building to shudder as said wall practically implodes. Slivers of wood go flying everywhere, bouncing off the two hero’s armor and capes as the two keep moving, past riddles and through traps faster than “the Riddler” can spring them... all the while accompanied by Edward Nigma’s angry screams over how Batwoman is cheating. Although given the fact that the two heroes are moving through the maze in a way that Edward Nigma hadn’t thought possible, it’s not like he has all that many traps which could harm them in the first place.

“You may have _cheated_ your way through my maze Dark Knight— but you can’t cheat your way through the Riddle of the Minotaur!” Nigma cries out as Batwoman and Robin smash through a final wall and emerge into what must be the “center of the maze”, although, according to the thermal camera feed which Alfred Pennyworth is projecting on the displays built into Batwoman’s cowl and Robin’s domino mask, the room is actually located on the edge of the maze, in what was once a sort of gift store for the House of Many Troubles.

The room has been cleared of whatever it once contained and is empty save for a folding table in the center, upon which Daniel Mockridge lies. The man is a mess, missing his suit jacket, with a torn and stained shirt and tied up with thick brown rope, the sort that you’d see used to keep a damsel in distress in the path of an oncoming train. Standing over the CEO of Competition is Edward Nigma’s “minotaur”… which looks like a mannequin that’s been hastily rigged up so it has some limited movement.

The mannequin is dressed in furry pants and something which vaguely looks like gladiator style chest and arm armor. It’s “head” appears to be a piece of cardboard cut in the rough shape of a cow’s head, with yarn and bits of craft store fur attached around the edges of the cardboard and two horns of different sizes and shapes attached to that cardboard… with one of those horns looking like it is two seconds away from falling off. The eyes are two small lights and there’s a red light positioned in the hole where it’s mouth should be.

The whole thing would be comical, save for the fact that the limited movement appears to include the minotaur’s arms, which are holding an axe over it’s head… in such a way that if the axe falls it will cut through Daniel Mockridge’s throat. When Batwoman steps towards Mockridge there is a mechanical clank from the Minotaur and the axe starts to lower, until the Minotaur is holding it straight out and almost seems to be pointing it at the Dark Knight. Mockridge whimpers and starts to squirm as Batwoman calmly crosses her arms in front of her.

“Go ahead Nigma, I’m ready for your final challenge.”

“I have billions of eyes… yet I live in darkness.” The Minotaur “says” in a voice which Robin is pretty sure is just Nigma doing his best to speak slowly and dramatically and perhaps then slowing down electronically. “I have millions of ears—”

“The human brain.” Batwoman sighs, cutting off the Minotaur. “I remember reading that riddle in a book when I was _seven_ Nigma.”

“Which makes it pretty sad that you chose _that_ riddle as your ‘final challenge’.” Robin notes as Batwoman launches herself over the table and, before Nigma can command the minotaur to drop the axe on Mockridge, she sends the robot flying with a well placed kick.

“You cheated Batwoman! You couldn’t outsmart me so you cheated!” Nigma half sneers, half-screams over the same speakers which he’d just used to make the Minotaur speak. “I’d thought that maybe, just maybe you be an intellectual challenge, but instead I got another muscle bound idiot!”

“If you’re such a genius Nigma, then why don’t you try to answer one of my riddles?” Batwoman asks as she cuts Mockridge free… but neither she nor Robin offers any assistance to the CEO of Competition, causing him to fall to the ground when he tries to stand.

“Try? TRY?!” Nigma growls. “I won’t _try_ to answer your pathetic riddle Batwoman, I _will_ answer it and you will bow to my intellectual superiority. So ask away Dark Knight!”

“Batwoman, Dark Knight, both of those names fade with the rising sun, so what is my name when the night is done?”

For a moment there is complete silence in the House of Many Troubles, save for the sound of electricity sparking in the broken remains of the Minotaur and the heavy breathing of Daniel Mockridge.

“What’s wrong Nigma, are you stumped?” Robin asks with a smirk on his face.

“That…that’s not a riddle!” Nigma screeches. “You promised me a riddle Batwoman and that’s not a riddle!”

“Riddle – a puzzling question, problem or mater.” Batwoman replies.”I’d say that my question is quite puzzling to the criminals of Gotham… so what’s the answer Nigma?”

“I… I can figure this out.” Nigma mutters to himself. “Female, Caucasian, around 5’6 or 5’7, training alone would take a decade, but you’d also need to be independently wealthy or connected to someone with wea—”

The Riddler’s musings are abruptly cut off by the sound of a door slamming open and the unmistakable sound of Gotham’s finest storming whatever room Edward Nigma had holed up to operate his maze and demanding that the man put his hands up and surrender.

“I’ll get you for this Batwoman!” Nigma screeches, his voice muffled as if he is being pushed against the floor. “I’ll get you and I’ll solve your so called riddle!”

“Sure you will. Get him out of here!” The familiar voice of Commissioner Gordon replies. “Is this thing still on? Batwoman?”

“I can hear you Commissioner.” The Dark Knight replies. “We’ve got Mockridge, we’ll be out shortly.”

“Okay, Gil Mason’s waiting outside. You can pass Mockridge off to him.” Gordon sighs. “You’d think Nigma would know better than to try something _tonight_ of all nights.”

“You’d think.” Robin mutters darkly as Batwoman once again lashes out, this time kicking at the boards covering the exit to the House of Many Troubles which soon give way. Stopping only to grab Daniel Mockridge— who apparently has finally realized that he’s safe and is openly sobbing as he thanks the two heroes for saving him— the Dark Knight heads out towards the waiting members of the Gotham Police Force, including Gil Mason, who doesn’t seem at all surprised when Batwoman essentially shoves Mockridge at him.

“The whole place is booby trapped.” She informs the young officer whom Gordon is sure will become a Detective within the year. The man seems nervous, but then again almost every member of the Gotham Police force tends towards that exact reaction when face to face with Batwoman, save for the Commissioner, Detective Montoya and, occasionally, Detective Bullock.

“Treat it like one of the Joker’s hideouts.” Robin suggests  as Officer Mason hands Mockridge off two EMTs who quickly hustled him over to a waiting ambulance.

“Gordon already sent word that no one goes in till some specialists arrive tomorrow morning.” Mason replies. “We’ll station a few officers  here till then, just in case some idiot decides to try and get inside.”

“Good.” Batwoman replies, nodding to the Officer before firing off her grappling hook and taking off, with Robin following close behind her. They don’t go far, since there really isn’t any reason to— the Tumbler was parked just behind the building across the street from the House of Many Troubles and there here only been one reporter present when the heroes emerged from the maze and he seemed focused on interviewing Mockridge.

 “We headed home?” Robin asks, not bothering to hide a yawn as he they land next to the powerful car.

“It’s late…or rather, early. You can go home.” Batwoman replies. “I want to do a quick patrol before I head back.”

The Dark Knight doesn’t have to look at her squire to know that he can tell she is lying… but the young boy doesn’t say anything. Instead he simply darts over, wraps his arms around her waist and hugs his adopted mother as tightly as he can. For a second Batwoman freezes, but then Dick squeezes a little tighter and Rachel reaches out to return the embrace.

“Call if you need me?” Dick whispers.

“As long as you do the same.” Rachel smiles despite herself and as Dick pulls back she reaches out to ruffle his hair. “I won’t be long.”

“Okay.” Dick hesitates, obviously considering saying more but deciding against doing so. The young hero heads off to the car, his mentor silently watching, but instead of hopping in and heading off Robin leans in to retrieve something from the car, which he then brings back to his adopted mother. “HQ thought you’d need this.”

“This” is a plastic tube, like the sort art students kept rolled up paintings and sketches in— it’s even got a strap so that it could be carried over the shoulder. The plastic of the tube is a cloudy white, which can only just be seen through, but even in the dim light of the back alley the Dark Knight can tell that the tube contains two red roses.

Batwoman silently takes the tube from Robin, who looks up at her for a moment before heading back to the Tumbler and climbing inside. The Dark Knight silently watches the powerful car drive away before securing the tube across her back, underneath her cape, and taking to the rooftops of Gotham once more.

As a child Rachel and Alfred had taken flowers to her parents’ graves on the anniversary of their murder. Sometimes they’d taken roses, but more often the flowers had been little bouquets that Rachel gathered from the gardens. Even when Rachel was away from Gotham during high school and college she’d come back to lay flowers on their graves and, more often than not, spend a sleepless night wandering through the halls of Wayne Manor.

The first time that she’d gone to Crime Alley on the anniversary of her parents’ murder was when she was eighteen and rumors had started going around that Joe Chill was going to testify against Carmine Falcone. The whole thing had been more of a statement against Chill than anything else— the photograph of Rachel Wayne laying flowers on the cement where her parents had died had been front page news in Gotham, although in the end it hadn’t done anything to keep Chill behind bars.

In the years she’d spent wandering she’d “celebrated” the anniversary in different ways— she’d gotten blackout drunk, lit candles in cathedrals and temples… and spent an entire night watching the stars with a man she thought was named Henri. After she came back to Gotham, after she’d become the city’s Dark Knight, she’d found herself lying roses in Crime Alley while wearing her cape and cowl. At first this had been due to what was essentially a scheduling conflict— she’d been on her way to lay the flowers but had gotten called in by Gordon to assist with a Mobster who was using some of Scarecrow’s product, so she’d found herself in the Tumbler with roses in the passenger seat at around 1 AM in the morning. The next year she’d been distracting herself with a patrol which was longer then it had any right to be when Alfred had summoned her to the Auxiliary Cave and all but thrust the roses at her… and now Alfred had packed roses when Robin and the Dark Knight headed off to deal with Nigma.

It doesn’t take her long to reach Crime Alley… in fact it takes her longer to ascertain that she is alone and won’t be seen on any sort of surveillance camera. Once Batwoman is certain that she is alone and unobserved she makes her way to end of the alley, drops to the ground and slowly walks towards the alley’s mouth…

_What’s wrong Rachel?_

_No, no. It was me, I just needed some fresh air._

She stops just before the sidewalk. A few steps in front of her and to the left a roadside memorial has sprung up around the base of an electrical pole. There’s a picture of her mother and father posing for the press at some charity event attached to the street light by two strips of tape, with “REST IN PEACE” written across the bottom in black sharpie. A few candles burn at the base of the pole and there are several bouquets of flowers leaning against the pole… tomorrow, just like they have every year, the papers will run a picture of that memorial, alongside the latest picture of Rachel where she looks appropriately grief-stricken.

_A little bit opera goes a long way, right Rachel?_

_Yeah…_

_Come on, let’s go…_

She stops in the exact same spot that she had that night, as if her father is still there, still putting himself in between his family and Joe Chill’s gun. After a moment which she spends fruitlessly trying to compose herself, Rachel slowly kneels down and slowly reaches out to place the roses on the spot where her parents died. For a moment she can’t quite manage to let go of the stems and when she does it takes all of her strength to stop herself from falling over. So she remains kneeling in the grimy alley, staring down at the roses, flinching slightly whenever a car rolls by on the street beyond, even though she knows that no one can see her, thanks to the placement of the nearest street lights and the fact that she’s dressed almost entirely in black.

_Don’t be afraid._

For the second time in less than twenty-four hours Rachel realizes that she’s not alone… there’s someone standing behind her once again so she turns, taking care to step to the side so she doesn’t disturb the roses as she prepare to fling one of her batarangs at the person behind her, whom she is almost certain is Ra’s Al Ghul.

On any other day she would have been able to stop herself, to either refrain from throwing the projectile or to redirect it’s flight. But she can almost _see_ Joe Chill, standing there like Rachel is still eight years old and small for her age, so the batarang has already left her fingers by the time that she realizes the “someone” who was standing behind her is the Last Son of Krypton.

Moving faster than her eyes can really follow Clark reaches up and catches the projectile before it can hit the coat of arms of the House of El which decorates the chest of his costume and prompted Lois Lane to come up with the name “Superman”. Awkwardly the Man of Steel steps forward, extending his hand which had caught the batarang towards the Dark Knight. After a moment’s hesitation she reaches out to take the batarang, expecting that when Clark opens his hand there’ll be nothing there but an unrecognizable lump of twisted and compacted metal. However the batarang which tumbles from Superman’s uncovered hand to land on Batwoman’s gloved hand is entirely unharmed.

As the Dark Knight returns the batarang to the appropriate pocket on her utility belt and allows her cape to close around her once more, the Last Son of Krypton steps forward so that he’s standing by her side, so that the two are forming a sort of V, with the two roses lying in such a way that the V is turned into an A.

“Are you okay?” Clark asks, awkwardly folding his arms in front of him as Rachel keeps her arms at her sides and hidden under her cape.

“I… I’ve been better.” She admits, choosing to look down at the roses again instead of over at Clark, despite the fact that she keeps seeing flashes of her parents bodies lying there. Under the cover of her cape her arms wrap around her waist as she struggles to figure out what to say… only to find herself shaking like she’d ventured out into a snowstorm. As she continues to shake she leans forward and Clark reaches out to gently pulls her into his arms, one of which reaches around her waist as the other reaches up to cup the back of her head as Rachel buries her face in the Man of Steel’s shoulder and stops trying to hold back her tears.

Another car rumbles by the alley and Rachel flinches, half pulling back from Clark, half leaning towards him as her head turns towards the street to ensure no one is watching them. Clark takes a half step backwards into an area more the shadows are more substantial, half pulling, half lifting Rachel along with him and positioning the two of them so that somehow the Kryptonian’s bright costume is all but hidden behind the Dark Knight’s more muted colors.

“Do you want to go?” Clark asks. “Or… do you want me to go?”

“No, I’m glad you’re here.” Rachel practically stammers while she tries to figure out the answer to Clark’s other question. Glancing around her gaze lands on the parapet of the Monarch Theater, specifically on the corner which overlooks the mouth of Crime Alley. Out of the corner of her eye Rachel can see Clark follow her gaze before he pulls the Gotham hero closer to him. The world becomes a blur for a second and when it clears once again the two are standing on the parapet… and the street light which should illuminate the corner of the Monarch Theater’s roof which the two heroes are standing on is not only out but appears to be _smoking_.

“Did— did you just shoot out the streetlight with your laser eyes?”

“… maybe.” Clark coughs awkwardly, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. As he does this the Dark Knight steps back from the Man of Steel, moving closer to the edge of the roof and looking down at Crime Alley. For a moment Clark remains where he is, but then he slowly moves over to stand at the Dark Knight’s side once again.“Is— is there anything I can do to help?”

Silently Rachel reaches out and takes hold of Clark’s left hand with her right. The Man of Steel responds by gently squeezing her hand. The Dark Knight briefly glances over at the Man of Steel before turning away and fixing her gaze on the far distant lights of the Upper East Side and the Fashion District beyond.

“Ra’s Al Ghul came to the Manor last month.” She pauses to take a deep breath and clear her throat. “He wanted my help in getting something from a man in Saint Petersburg. He was playing the part of Henri Ducard and needed a plus-one. He said if I  helped him he’d… well he’d leave me alone. He’d stop showing up announced at the Manor and he’d put all of his letters and such in my mailbox, not on my desk. I agreed… and it turned out that ‘something’ was a late birthday gift— my mother’s necklace.”

“Your mother’s…” Clark cuts himself off and without even looking Rachel can tell that the Last Son of Krypton is looking down at Crime Alley. “You mean the pearl necklace? The one she was wearing that night?”

“Joe Chill broke it after he shot my father… and just before he shot my mother.” Rachel has to stop to take a deep breath and makes the impromptu decision to sit down on the edge of the Monarch Theater’s roof. Right before she would have let go of Clark’s hand he follows her, placing himself at her side so that her right leg is against his left leg and their joined hands are resting on said legs. “Chill had three pearls on him when he was caught, the rest were scattered all over the alley. The police gathered them up, but someone stole them from an evidence locker. Ra’s managed to track them down to a Russian mob boss.”

“And he gave them back to you.”

“And he gave them back to me.”

“But he didn’t’ leave you alone, did he?”

“No… not that I really expected him to.” Rachel sighs. “Ra’s showed up earlier today and we spared… with katanas. Real, _sharp_ katanas. I should have refused, told him to honor his agreement… but I didn’t.”

“You’re not hur—”

“No.” Rachel is quick to cut him off. “I actually managed to hurt him— nothing major, but I drew blood. I could tell he was pleased and I felt proud that I pleased him… but I also felt horrible. I hate that some part of me still wants his approval, even after all this time and after I know what kind of man he really is— do you know what he told me when I was back at the Monastary? He said my parents death wasn’t my fault… it was my father’s.”

“What?” If Clark coughs, as if choking on air. “Joe Chill had a _gun_.”

“That’s what I said.” Rachel laughs, a biter broken sound. “He asked if that would have stopped me. I said I had trained and he… he said that training didn’t matter, that all that mattered was having the will to act.”

“But your father stepped in front of the gun.” Clark objects. “He tried to save your mother’s life and he saved yours...”

_And you almost repaid him by becoming a murderer._ **_Your father would be ashamed._** _Do you think he’d even want to look at you if he knew?_ **_Why are you letting Hannah do this?_** _You know it’s only a matter of time before he finds out. **You were supposed to come for me!**_

 “As far as I’m concerned your father died a hero.” The Man of Steel continues, prompting the Dark Knight to shift so that she can meet his gaze. “And you’ve not only lived up to that legacy… you’ve surpassed it.”

For a moment time stands still as Rachel stares at Clark, hearing the Last Son of Krypton’s words but not quite believing them, searching his face for some hint of deception… but all she finds is something akin to pity but kinder— the sort of expression she’s used to seeing on Alfred Pennyworth’s face around this time of year— and open and honest adoration.

The world snaps back to it’s proper speed and even seems to speed up a little as Rachel lets go of Clark’s hand and all but throws herself foreword, warping her arms around the Man of Steel’s broad shoulders to pull him down into a kiss. Clark freezes for a second, clearly surprised, but then Superman reaches out, wraps his arms around her waist and uses it to pull Batwoman closer to him, so that she’s practically in his lap.

When Rachel pulls back to breathe Clark tips his head forward, so that his forehead is resting against Batwoman’s cowl as his fingers trace the outlines of the Kevlar plates which cover the back of her suit. The Dark Knight opens her mouth to speak but finds herself having to take two deep breaths before she can manage to do so.

“Fly me home?”

The Last Son of Krypton responds by leaning forward and quickly kissing her as he rises into the air, easily adjusting his grip so that Rachel finds herself sitting in his arms in a sort of upright bridal carry— with Superman left arm under her knees and his right arm around her back, just above her waist underneath her cape. As Clark starts to rise above the Monarch Theater and Crime Alley she places her left arm around his right shoulder while her right arm reaches across his chest to gently rest on his left shoulder.

Rachel can tell that Clark is taking his time— instead of the blur of lights and colors which she’s experienced the few times that she’d previously been carried by Superman, the streets of Gotham slowly fall away as Clark rises into the sky before turning in the direction of Wayne Manor. As they fly Rachel suddenly becomes aware of how tired she is, after her sparing session with Ra’s Al Ghul, dealing with Mockridge as Rachel Wayne, encountering him again as Matches Malone, saving him as Batwoman and going to Crime Alley. She finds her eyes starting to slip closed as she and Clark head out over the Gotham River and the lights of Gotham which she can see over Clark’s shoulders start to become almost indistinguishable from the stars in the sky above her city as everything becomes a blur…

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Rachel Wayne’s first thought when she opens her eyes is _I must have fallen asleep._ She’s no longer in Clark Kent’s arms, but is instead lying in her bed at Wayne Manor, on her right side, looking over towards the door to her bedroom. The Batwoman suit is lying in pieces— thankfully in the pieces it’s supposed to break down to— on the floor between her bed the closed door to her room, in a puddle of sunlight cast by one of her bedroom windows. As Rachel blinks the sleep out of her eyes she notes that the puddle of sunlight is shifting slightly as the curtains move in the breeze coming through the open window.

The Billionaire is struggling to remember why she’d shed her suit in her bedroom instead of down in the cave when she realizes that there’s an arm wrapped loosely around her waist, in addition to resting on her pillow her head is also resting on another arm and the owner of said arms is warm against her back. With her heart in her throat Rachel trys to peer over her shoulder while also moving as little as possible, before she decides to just bite the bullet and turn over to face whoever it is she’s sleeping with…

Only to bite her lip and wish that she _actually_ had a bullet to bite when she realizes that the sleeping man who has his arms wrapped around her is none other then Clark Kent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Yes I am well aware that I am evil. This chapter is a bit longer than usual (I tend to cut myself off around page 15 of my Chapter In Progress word doc, and this one ended up being 29 pages) so hopefully that makes up a little for my delay in getting chapters out and the ending. :P
> 
> The African-American Police Officer is named after Jackie Ormes, an African-American cartoonist who was later investigated by the FBI during the McCarthy era.
> 
> All of the riddles are from the original episode. Yes the Arabic is from Google translate. The original episode this and the last chapter was based off (If ou’re So Smart, Why Aren’t You Rich?) of is one of my favorite “oh god Batman the Animated series, what the hell level is your tech at?” because they have like black and white TVs but yet an amusement park can have a giant flying hand and it’s not even considered the smallest bit weird.


	55. Vaticinium Ex Eventu

**_Vaticinium Ex Eventu = Latin for “Prophecy From The Event” meaning a Prophecy written after the author already had information about the events they were supposed to be “foretelling”_ **

_With her heart in her throat Rachel tries to peer over her shoulder while also moving as little as possible, before she decides to just bite the bullet and turn over to face whoever it is she’s sleeping with… only to bite her lip and wish that she actually had a bullet to bite when she realizes that the sleeping man who has his arms wrapped around her is none other than Clark Kent._

For a moment all that Rachel can do is stare in something akin to wide eyed shock at the still sleeping Man of Steel. She’s hyper aware of how close the two of them are— one of Clark’s arms is underneath the pillow that she’s resting her head on, while his other arm is wrapped loosely around her waist. Rachel forces herself to close her eyes and takes a few deep breaths— only to freeze as she realizes that she can’t feel Clark’s bare skin against her neck, her waist, or even her foot which is resting against Clark’s legs. As she realizes this Rachel slowly shifts so that she can look to her left and, instead of the tanned skin she would expect, all she sees is the vibrant blue of Superman’s suit. Instantly the panic which had been rising ever since she woke is gone, allowing Rachel to make a more measured and calm inspection of her situation.

Not only is Clark still wearing the red and blue suit, but it isn’t messed up, or hiked up. In fact the Superman suit looks like it’s only been worn for a few minutes, not however many hours they’ve slept and however long Clark was wearing it before he met her in Crime Alley. In fact the only thing “wrong” with the suit is the fact that the cape appears to have been removed, but as soon as she realizes this Rachel recalls seeing a hint of red amidst the black and dark gray of the disassembled pieces of her own suit. A quick self inventory reveals that although her suit is lying in pieces on the floor behind her, she’s still wearing the sports bra, wife beater, underwear and exercise shorts which she’d had on underneath the suit the previous night.

With her fears proven unfounded Rachel finds herself relaxing into Clark’s unconscious embrace. A soft sigh escapes from her lips as she goes practically boneless and her memories of the previous night come back, like bubbles slowly floating up from the bottom of a deep body of water to the surface… _although she’d closed her eyes while the Kryptonian was flying, the journey between Gotham and Wayne Manor wasn’t long enough for her to fall asleep, though when Clark landed in the garden behind the Manor she had to shake herself slightly to pull herself back to reality. Clark had landed in almost the exact spot where the two of them would have had their first kiss if the Justice League hadn’t summoned them to help deal with Aresia._

_Clark had actually started to walk towards the nearest entrance to the Manor before she realized that Rachel was awake. She could remember the most adorable blush spreading over the Kryptonian’s face as he bashfully set her down and the arm which had been around her back when he was carrying her in his arms, lingered for a moment with his hand gently pressed against Rachel’s shoulder. Clark had taken a half step away from her and she’d swayed slightly, the fatigue which had started pulling at her in Crime Alley and almost caused her to fall asleep in Clark’s arms returning with a vengeance._

_Before the Dark Knight could stumble the Man of Steel moved to support her  at almost the exact moment that she reached out for him, leaving Rachel and Clark in an awkward embrace which almost looked as if he was trying to hug her and she was trying to push him away. They were face to face, so close that it felt as if Rachel could feel Clark’s breath as she muttered something about going straight to bed instead of heading down to the Cave to change and put away her suit. The next thing she knew the Last Son of Krypton was all but escorting her up through the Manor and, instead of pushing him away, Rachel was just going along with it, only occasionally gesturing to indicate which way they needed to go._

_It was only when they reached her bedroom door that Rachel pulled away from Clark in order to step forward and turn to face him. She’d been intending to say goodbye before her fatigue made her embarrass herself any further. However before she could say anything there was a sudden noise from Dick room’s— it sounded like a book had fallen off the boy’s bedside table and the noise had started Ace into making a sort of soft “whoff” and caused Rachel’s adopted son to mumble in his sleep. Without thinking Rachel had moved, reaching out to pull Clark past her and into her bedroom with one hand as the other reached out to close the door behind the two of them._

_“Light sleeper?” Clark asked in a whisper as she turned to face him, glancing past her with his eyes squinting in such a way that lead Rachel to believe the Man of Steel was using his x-ray vision to check in on Dick._

_“Not usually, but there’s a first time for everything.” Rachel replied as she reached up to disable the security system in her cowl so that she could remove it and run her fingers through her tangled hair as a thought crosses her mind. “Did Alfred call you?”_

_“I called him.” Clark replies after a moment’s hesitation, his eyes losing their squint as he shifts slightly to face her. “I’m… I’m sorry if I overstepped, but this seemed like the sort of baggage you might appreciate some help carrying.”_

_“You know…” Rachel paused to let out something which was almost, but not quite, a laugh. “I am **really** looking forward to meeting the woman responsible for raising a neigh-invulnerable alien to be so human.”_

_“Well, she can’t wait to meet you.” Clark laughed, awkwardly raising one hand to rub at the back of his neck. “Though that may be due to her wanting to see what real millionaire is like.”_

_“Billionaire.” Rachel corrected, a smirk appearing on her face which only grew as Clark blinked in confusion._

_“What?”_

_“I’m a billionaire, not a millionaire. Millionaires are **so** last year.”_

_Clark’s hand had practically flown up to his lips in an attempt to muffle his laughter… but upon seeing Rachel smile the Last Son of Krypton leant forward and, after what might have been a moment’s hesitation or might have been Clark giving Rachel an opportunity to pull back, he presses his lips to her’s in a gentle kiss._

_Rachel had all but fallen in to the kiss, one hand tightening it’s grip on her cowl as Clark gently places a hand on her shoulder and squeezes slightly, his touch so soft that Rachel had been honestly surprised that she could feel it through her cape, let alone through the armor of her suit. Rachel can’t even guess how long the kiss lingers before Clark pulls back, leaving the two of them standing practically chest to chest, their noses just a few inches apart and Rachel’s breath causing a lock of her hair to brush up against Clark’s cheek and lips._

_“I should go.” Clark had whispered as he took a step back, his hand lingering on Rachel’s shoulder for a moment. “Let you get some sleep.”_

_Rachel let out a slow shuddering breath as Clark turned towards the nearest window… and just as he slid the window open her cowl, which she’d somehow managed to hang on to all this time, dropped to the ground. The cowl doesn’t weigh much and she had been standing on a thick carpet, but the sound that the cowl made when it landed had seemed ear-shattering. It had clearly startled Clark… but not as much as what she’d said when the Man of Steel turned back towards her._

_“Or you could stay.”_

_For a moment the only sound in the room had been that of a gentle breeze blowing in through the open window. The soft wind had been just strong enough to push Clark’s cape about, causing it to curl around his body and making it look almost like the red cloth was reaching out towards Rachel. Her own cape had only shifted slightly in the breeze, but it had brushed her hair back away from her face._

_“I mean… the bed’s big enough for two.” Rachel had added in rough whisper. “Not that I’m suggesting we—”_

_“Or I could stay.”_

She hadn’t expected him to stay the night.

Well, she’d expected  Clark would _want_ to stay the night, if only out of some strange sort of chivalry, but to be forced away by some “job for Superman” and to either not return due to necessity or to not return due to a desire to avoid any morning after awkwardness. But her Clark was, still curled around her, playing the big spoon. If he had left at some point in the night then he’d managed to do so and to return without waking her up, something which Rachel was inclined to dismiss as impossible due to how light a sleeper she usually was… but then last night hadn’t been “usual” by any stretch of the imagination.

With a soft sigh Rachel leans in towards Clark, who responds by tightening his arms around her ever so slightly, an action which gently presses her closer to him, so that her forehead is resting against his chest. With a soft smile on her face Rachel closes her eyes once more and allows herself to drift off. Before long her world, which had exploded to the outer limits of her senses when she’d woken up, retracts until she’s only marginally aware of anything beyond the warmth, comfort and relative safety of Clark’s embrace. Soon Rachel can’t be entirely sure if she’s still awake or is simply dreaming that she is still awake.

Rachel isn’t sure how much times passes before she feels Clark start to stir only to freeze as he realizes that he isn’t alone. Rachel opens her eyes only a handful of seconds before Clark’s fly open and she can’t help but smile as she watches the Man of Steel’s  gaze dart around the room, seemingly mirroring Rachel’s own reaction to the situation and her own difficulty in remembering last night’s events. Rachel can’t help but chuckle softly at Clark’s reaction, which brings a smile to the Man of Steel’s face.

“Sleep well?” Clark asks in a voice made rough by sleep as Rachel reaches up with one hand to brush Clark’s hair away from his face, causing it to stick up awkwardly.

“Better than I have in years.” Rachel admits before she loops her arm around his neck and pulls herself up so that she can kiss him again. Her eyes slip closed as the kiss deepens and Clark’s hand slowly moves across her back until it is resting just over the gap between her shirt and her shorts, his hand warm on the small of her back and—

_BEEEEP BEEEP BEEEP_

Rachel and Clark practically fly apart as the sudden noise breaks the silence of the bedroom. It takes both of them a second to realize that the noise is coming from Clark’s Justice League communicator, which the Man of Steel quickly reaches up and taps in a brief pattern, which cause the sound to abruptly stop.

“I…” Rachel pauses to yawn. “I’ve never heard a communicator make _that_ noise before.”

“It’s my alarm clock— I programmed the Fortress to connect to it and broadcast to my communicator if I don’t deactivate it within a certain time.” Clark practically babbles, his eyes going distant as he apparently mentally reviews his schedule. “I’ve got a founder’s meeting in… like fifteen minutes.”

 “So that the _second_ time now that the League has interrupted us.” Rachel sighs as she untangles herself from Clark and sits up, running her hand through her hair and wincing slightly at how tangled it is. “I’d say ‘third times the charm’ but I’m not sure what _exactly_ that would imply…”

Clark smirks as he rises up— the action so smoothness that Rachel is certain he’s technically flying— and leans forward to kiss her again. Despite the admission that he has somewhere to be it’s clear that he’s reluctant to leave Rachel’s side, let alone the planet in order to go up to the Justice League Watchtower and sit through what will undoubtedly be  an exceedingly dull meeting. With a sigh Rachel ends the kiss, places a hand on Clark’s chest right over the coat of arms of the House of El and pushes him back. The action sends the Last Son of Krypton much further back then it really should have, confirming for Rachel that Clark had indeed been flying, or at least hovering or something similar.

“I— I have a son to check in on, a business that I’m sure needs tending to and several members of the League have asked me to consult on minor matters.” Rachel sighs. “So why don’t you go to your meeting, save some more kittens… and then finish packing up your apartment in Metropolis.”

“The one here’s ready?” Clark asks.

“It should be finished today.”

“Then I’ll finish packing and… and I’ll call you later?” Something about how Clark’s response comes out as a strange mix of a statement, an offer and a question causes Rachel to smile and lean back in for another quick kiss.

“You better, we haven’t figured out how we’re getting to your mother’s tomorrow.” Rachel replies with a smirk before she stretches and Clark makes his way over to the still open window, pausing briefly to retrieve his cape from where it lies amidst the pieces of the Batwoman suit and reattach it. This accomplished he glances back at Rachel, who bites her tongue to keep herself from asking him to stay as his gaze seems to warm her entire body.

“Have a good day.” Clark offers somewhat awkwardly before he is suddenly out the window and up, up, up and away, moving so fast that he’s just a blur of red and blue.

“You too.” Rachel replies in a whisper before she flops backwards, so that she is lying lengthwise across the rumpled sheets of her bed, grabs one of the pillows, presses it to her face and lets out a noise somewhere between hysterical laughter and a scream… which is followed quickly by a groan as she realizes that while Dick may not know that Clark spent the night, Alfred most certainly _does_.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Clark Kent manages to get all the way up to the Watchtower, to the door of the room in which the founder’s meeting is going to take place before he breaks through the warm fog of happiness and tears his mind away from contemplations of blowing off the Founder’s Meeting to return to Rachel Wayne and realizes that the meeting will be the first time that he’s been face to face with any member of the Justice League since… well since the events following Aresia’s attempted gendercide.  That alone would be awkward enough, given his and Batwoman’s interactions and the fact that neither of them had offered up any explanation for said interactions… but all of the Founders knew his “real” name and Clark knew the Flash read a lot of trashy celebrity gossip rags, so it was likely that the meeting would turn into a series of tangents on what exactly what was happening between him and Batwoman and why he was going on dates with Batwoman’s employer. Clark pauses for a moment to sigh and wish that he’d asked Rachel what they should do about this sort of situation before he pushes open the door to the conference room and steps inside… to thankfully no fanfare at all.

Green Lantern and Hawkman are seated side by side, apparently deep in conversation while looking at a data pad which sits on the table between them. Next to Hawkman the Martain Manhunter sits calmly, his eyes staring off into the distance in a way that indicates to Clark that he is meditating or conversing with someone via his telepathic abilities. Next to J’onn is the Flash’s empty seat, which knowing Wally will be filled and shifted to the right, towards Wonder Man, at the last minute. The Prince of the Amazons is leaning forward in his seat, scrolling through information on another data pad. As Clark moves to take his seat— in between Wonder Man and Hawkman— David glances up at him, with a strange glint to his eyes, but instead of saying anything to Clark the Wonder Man clears his throat and calls the meeting to order as, just as Clark had predicted, the Flash zooms.

Clark spends the entire meeting on pins and needles, expecting the shoe to drop and the questioning to begin. Thanks to this he doesn’t really contribute much to the meeting at first, as they discuss the Aresia incident and the preparations that Star City is making for the Ex-Amazon’s trial. As the floor is handed over to Green Lantern for a quick report on events occurring “nearby” in space, Clark starts to relax. By the time that they’ve moved on to dealing with other recent League Missions he’s back to his normal self, debating good naturally with Hakwman and joking with the Flash as J’onn steps out to fetch Zatanna and Medea Blood.

Ever since the membership of the Justice League expanded beyond the six of them, the Founders have made a point of calling in those other members to meetings which involve discussions on topics those members have specific knowledge on. For example Green Arrow often sits in on Founder’s Meetings when they’ve discussed issues concerning non-powered heroes and Zatanna is always willing to step in so they can use her knowledge of magic. For a while the _homo magi_ had been making plans for how to protect the Watchtower against magic, plans which she will apparently finally be able to actually implement thanks to Medea Blood’s connections in the magical community and either her own abilities or Etrigan’s abilities.

Soon enough the meeting comes to an end, the Flash streaking out to burn off the energy that’s built up, J’onn J’onzz phasing through the floor to return to monitor duty, Zatanna heading for the teleports to go prepare for her next show and Clark heading out to avoid any questions and to get to the nearest airlock so that he can go pack up his apartment. However as he reaches the door to the airlock he finds Medea Blood waiting for him there, leaning against the door with her arms crossed in front of her. Slowly she straightens up, tilting her head from one side to the other as her arms uncross and her gaze meets Clark’s.

**_“Before you fly away so free, Medea and I would speak with thee.”_ **

There’s an odd sort of echo to the words, and there is something strange about her appearance, it’s almost like a photograph with double exposure. Clark can see Medea Blood— tall, pale skinned woman, wearing a tan men’s jacket over dark jeans and a black turtleneck, her red hair pulled back in a pony tail while the white streaks frame her face— but he can also see a hazy image of what he assumes to be Etrigan— something taller, more reptile like, with skin the yellow of bile and a pelt of white hair from which horns jut out. It hurts his eyes to look at the strange double image of Medea Blood and Etrigan and the alcove that the two of them are standing in seems darker then it had just a moment ago. Just as he is forced to look away from them and reaches up to rub at his eyes, the voice speaks again and this time Clark notices that Medea’s lips aren’t moving… but the lips of the hazy half-visible image of what he assumes to be Etrigan are.

**_“Speak for us o form of man, tis simpler than the rhymes of Etrigan.”_ **

Clark blinks a few times to clear his vision and risks looking back at Medea Blood… the alcove still seems unnaturally dark, and there is still something otherworldly to the pale woman’s appearance, but there’s no longer the secondary image of a yellow skinned demon and it doesn’t hurt to look at her anymore.

“What… what was that?”

“Etrigan has no physical form unless we switch, but she is always with me and can make herself visible.” Medea replies before squinting her eyes slightly and frowning. “Did it hurt you to look at her?”

“It was like looking at the sun for too long.” Clark replies. “Why do you ask?”

“It is unusual… I’ve only met one other person who was pained by her projection.” Medea Blood explains. “You have given us no cause to harm you, so my voice will be used to speak.”

“Meaning you’ll be speaking, or that Etrigan will use your voice?”

“A little of column A, a little of column B.” Medea replies, the corner of her lip twisting upward in a way that doesn’t seem entirely possible for a human to do, followed by her lips parting for a second to allow a glimpse of needle like teeth.

“Forgive me, but I was under the impression that you were either Medea Blood or Etrigan… that it was something like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.”

“We we were first joined that was the case. Over the years we have… merged, for lack of a better word. Now there is no longer a clear line between the two. In a way it is not dissimilar to Gotham’s Dark Knight.”

“What?!?” Clark practically chokes on air and feels as if his eyes have gone impossibly wide. “But she’s not… I mean she doesn’t have—”

“No, she isn’t. I was speaking metaphorically.” Medea replies.

**_“Although she often seems to be cleft in twain, no demon lives in the house of Wayne.”_** Etrigan’s voice chimes, again in without Medea’s lips moving but this time with the added oddness of the voice not seeming to come from Medea or anywhere near her but rather from a spot just behind Clark’s right shoulder, and the voice is accompanied by a chill running up his right side.

“You… you know her. So is Rac— is _Batwoman_ what you wanted to talk about?” Superman asks, frowning as a thought crosses his mind. “Wait, is this… is this some sort of magical shovel talk?”

There is a moment of silence and then, as Medea Blood raises on thin eyebrow, terrifying demonic laughter fills Clark’s ears, accompanied with a faint smell of sulfur and ash as Medea smirks.

“We… had not planned for it to be.” As Medea speaks Clark catches another glimpse of needle like white teeth in her mouth, and for a second her skin seems to take on bile yellow tinge.

“ ** _Though if you should cause her one pained breath, we will give you a slow and lingering death.”_** Etrigan chimes in, projecting herself for just long enough to silently snarl at Clark and cause his eyes to water before vanishing.

“Apologies.” Medea mutters dryly as Clark blinks a few times to clear his vision. “We did not seek you out to issue threats, but to give you a warning.”

“A warning?” Clark frowns and suddenly he’s surrounded by neigh complete darkness, broken only by two glowing red eyes which peer at Clark from where Medea Blood was standing.

“ ** _This path was set in stone at the Naxos Portal, long before she met the one who thinks himself immortal. She will make a decision you can’t obey, so instead a bargain will be made. When what’s done is done and her breath is fled, place your trust in the demon’s head.”_**

For a moment the darkness around Clark seems to part like fog and he finds himself standing in the midst of the smoldering ruins of a building. Around him the Last Son of Krypton can see steel beams, which look like the sort which support the roof of warehouse, that have been split in half and scraps of burnt and burning wood which he assumes were part of the structure’s roof. The ruined building sits in what appears to be an ordinary and nondescript city street, the sort that could be found on the outskirts of any large city, from Metropolis to Gotham. Clark can’t see any identifiable landmarks from his vantage point and seems to be unable to turn around… all he can do is look down, which causes him to realize that he is hovering a few feet off the ground just before he spots a hand poking out from underneath a large piece of rubble… which is surrounded by a horrifyingly large puddle of what can only be blood.

And suddenly Clark is back on the Justice League Watchtower, standing in an alcove which leads to an airlock, his heart racing as if he was a normal human who had just run a mile… and Medea Blood is nowhere to be seen. Unsure of what in the hell had happened and fighting back the urge to call out to Medea Blood (or perhaps Etrigan) and the seemingly random urge to call Rachel and ask if she’s okay, Clark shakes his head quickly from side to side and moves into the airlock so that he can head back to Earth and go forward with his plan of packing up his Metropolis apartment… as he door to the airlock closes behind him Medea Blood fades back into view and steps towards a small widow which allows her to watch the Man of Steel start heading away from the Watchtower and down to Earth.

“Do you think we made the right choice?” Medea asks as a comforting weight settles upon her shoulders and the moist warmth of her other half’s breath brushes over her neck. “Some might argue that it would be less painful for her to be stolen, than her wishes ignored.”

“ ** _Ah but stolen she would end up in a gilded cage, this way she is at least given a chance to vent her rage. Now let us be gone oh form of man, there is nothing here for you or Etrigan.”_**

Medea Blood nods and closes her eyes, vanishing like mist in the morning as, far below the Watchtower, the Man of Steel arrives back at his apartment just as the doorbell rings. In the blink of an eye Clark has changed out of his Superman suit and is opening the door to reveal Oliver Queen, who nonchalantly walks past Clark into the apartment and doesn’t even wait to make sure that Clark has closed the door before he starts talking.

“Okay, so I’ll admit that the both scare the crap out of me, but just say the word and I’ll talk with them.”  

“Wha…” Clark blinks, trying to get his thoughts in order as he quickly scans the apartment for any bugs and the nearby area for anyone who could be listening in. “What are you talking about Ollie?”

“Well Batwoman and Rachel of course, I mean it’s hell sketchy that Bats is making her boss fake date you.”  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: WHY THE HEL DID I DECIDE TO GO WITH THE CANNON OF ETRIGAN SPEAKING IN RHYMES? This chapter would have been out like two days ago if I hadn’t. -___-
> 
> Okay so the universe that Scilicet… takes place in draws from a wide variety of material for it’s backstory/cannon and I don’t exactly have all of that info nailed down / set in stone. For example when I started writing this fanfic Smallville was not at all cannonical, because at the time I hadn’t seen the show and was only marginally aware of it’s existence. I think I’d been writing Scilicet… for like a year or two by the time that I got around to watching Smallville— and when I DID watch Smallville I marathoned the entire show in like half a month because I’d been asked to write a fic for a Fanzine and part of the requirements was that the fic need to have a Smaillville Clark Kent and a Batman Begins / The Dark Knight Bruce Wayne. The fanzine never got published, but I did finish the story (Nothing Is Random ) Since then Smallville has started to sorta seep into this AU, with the most obvious examples of this showing up in chapter and in Scilicet Adendum: Nomen Est Omen.
> 
> As a side note I only recently “half watched” Arrow and The Flash, so bits of both may end up seep into this fic. By “half watched” I mean that I started watching both shows but kinda lost interest and started skimming through them (skipping bits of episodes, skipping some episodes entirely, etc). I watched like 2-3 seasons of Arrow and less then one of The Flash. With Arrow I kinda liked it and ship Oliver/Slade, but got irrationally pissed off by The League of Shadows showing up and making it really fricking obvious that they wanted to make a Batman show but couldn’t get the rights to the character. The Flash never really held my interest to begin with, so I stopped watching that really fast. I keep meaning to watch Supergirl and Gotham but never quite being in the right mood for it.
> 
> Also the DC Movieverse may start to seep into the fic as I’ve seen Suicide Squad and Batman v Superman. I really enjoyed Suicide Squad but I was just kinda “okay” with Batman v Superman, with my main complaint being that the movie would have worked better if there’d been a Batman movie prior to establish Ben Affleck’s version of the character.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Scilicet Addendum: Aegri Somnia](https://archiveofourown.org/works/381726) by [Attalander](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Attalander/pseuds/Attalander), [Captain_Rachel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Rachel/pseuds/Captain_Rachel)
  * [Scilicet Addendum: Sodales](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4164021) by [Captain_Rachel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Rachel/pseuds/Captain_Rachel)




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